Runaway World
by RainingMonday
Summary: Addison and Mark discover a secret that changes their lives forever, Derek and Meredith start on their path to happily ever after, and a boy admitted to SGH affects them all in profound ways. Maddison and MerDer, starts during the crossover.
1. Sunsets and Car Crashes

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**1. _Sunsets and Car Crashes_**

**I promised myself that I would _not _start another story yet, but here I am. I was in a total Maddison mood today. I am like half Addek and half Maddison, and it all depends on which one I feel like on a specific day or time. Weird, I know, but it explains why I have two Addek stories and two Maddison ones. Anyway . . .**

**This starts during the crossover but part of the past is AU. It came to me while watching the movie August Rush (which I don't own), and it follows the very general plot (minus the music-y stuff.) So if you've seen the movie you know the basic idea. If you haven't, Addison uncovers a huge secret from her past, a secret that involves Mark. Meanwhile, Derek and Meredith are sorting out their engagement on their path to happily ever after. A few things are AU. Derek and Addison were married a little later than in the show, when they were about twenty-nine. Addison a few years younger than she is on the show; it's just the only way the storyline fits.**

**The title of the story comes from the song Runaway World by Making April, and the chapter title from the song Sunsets and Car Crashes by The Spill Canvas. I do not own either of those songs, August Rush, or Grey's.**

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_Eight Years Ago: The Crash_

"_So have you decided what you're going to do about that yet?" Her mother gestured at her stomach, her tone the same as if she had been complimenting Addison's shirt._

"_He's not a that, mothe – Bizzy. And I'm keeping him. I told you that."_

_Bizzy sighed, staring out the window. "What does Derek have to say about that?"_

"_It's not his decision; he's not my husband – yet. It's not his baby, anyway. It's mine and I don't care who or where the father is. I'm keeping him." Addison watched as Bizzy's polite incredulity turned to horror. It would have been funny if she wasn't ready for the blowup. Inside her, her child turned, and she smiled, rubbing the spot he liked to kick._

_Bizzy's sharp eyes followed her movement. "The father isn't here now, Addison. Derek could leave you anytime if it's not his child. This could ruin your career. So please don't be ridiculous – you're not keeping this child."_

"_Yes, I am! I am keeping him!" Addison said angrily, standing up. Her white napkin fluttered slowly to the floor. It was so quiet in the restaurant she could have sworn she heard it hit the floor. The eyes of nearly every customer around them silently watched the confrontation between mother and daughter._

"_I'm leaving," Addison whispered harshly, conscious of all her soundless surveyors. "I don't care what you think or you say – I stopped caring about that a long time ago. I'm keeping my son, and I'm doing it without your input."_

"_This is a mistake," Bizzy said coldly._

"_You're right, I shouldn't have come here!" Addison said. She stormed out of the restaurant, sniffling in the cold air. She'd never be good enough for Bizzy, but she would be good enough for her baby._

_She shoved the keys in the ignition violently and threw the car into reverse. She had only gotten about a block and a half. The gently twinkling Christmas lights were the last thing she saw. They were somehow frozen in her brain, a perfect picture of what life had looked like before it happened. Then the car slipping across black ice hit hers, and the terrible metallic screech was the last sound her baby ever heard._

_When Addison finally opened her eyes again, she was alone in a field of glittering glass, only disturbed by the bright red covering her body._

_She was unconscious again before the sirens began their wailing screams._

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He'd been waiting for them his whole life.

Tall grass, some taller than the eight year old boy, surrounded him. The moonlight illuminated the two paths before him: One led back to the Boy's Home where he grew up, and the other was the twisty black road stretching out into the darkness and the unknown.

A warm bed was waiting for him somewhere, but he'd sworn he wouldn't go back, no matter what. The other boys taunted and teased, but he remained adamant in his claim that his parents would want him, if he could only find them. Sage believed that something went wrong; something got messed up, something happened. Because they would have wanted him. He felt that more deeply than the sting of the cold night or the touch of the sun's warm rays.

They'd wanted him.

He had always thought they'd come looking for him one day, but since they hadn't, he had taken it upon himself to find them. The words of the others echoed through his head; he was too young; they were dead; they didn't want him; he'd never find them.

"But I will," he whispered. "They do want me. All I have to do is find them."

It hadn't quite dawned on the eight year old child how many people there were just in Seattle, where he was headed. He finally took the step out onto the road, and breathed in deeply. He felt good; this was what he was supposed to do. Fortunately for Sage, Fate was on his side.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He'd lied. He'd lied to her. He'd looked deep into her blue eyes under the neon lights of Joe's bar and lied through his teeth.

The second she'd walked through those doors, at the side of her complete asshole of a brother, his heart had been his once again. Mark tried to play it cool, told her about Lexie, and pretended that he'd moved on, because he thought that was what she wanted to hear.

He wanted to love Lexie, he wanted her to be the one. Things were so simple with her, and so easy. But just because he wanted to love her didn't mean he did or could. There were only two people who'd ever held his heart in their hands. The first was a one night stand in Santorini, during some of his wilder days. Although he'd just been in Greece on a traditional 'see the world' whim, he'd never forgotten her. The second was, of course, Addison.

He shouldn't love her. They'd both hurt each other far too much. But love is blind, irrational, unaware of logic or sense. She'd left for LA months ago, returning only once, and he still hadn't moved on. Lexie was a step. Lexie was him trying. Lexie was a distraction from her that wasn't working. He did care about her; she was a truly good person. But life never offered him the easy routes.

He _hated _Archer. Okay, he hadn't hated him before, but after he found out about him sleeping with three of his past girlfriends (and they called _him _a manwhore? Seriously) he loathed the guy. And yet here he stood, making sure that his heart beat in a steady, exact rhythm while Naomi got coffee and Addison rested. He stood here, practically oozing rage that was so intense it could be radioactive, for her. Because she loved that bastard on the bed there.

How many times had he thought about what might have been? What if he'd been able to convince her that he loved her, that he was ready; that he could be what she needed? Images of what might have been played on endless loop in his head as he left Archer's room.

He deposited his full coffee into a nearby trashcan with unnecessary force, and almost didn't recognize her sitting there. Broken, defeated, miserable, although her brother was alive. The hallway was deserted, the lone chair she was curled up in was tucked in an alcove, and yet he couldn't completely mask his surprise.

"Addie? What are you doing?" he asked softly, standing in front of her.

"Oh, Mark," she said in surprise, looking up at him. "Um, I was just . . . umm . . . Is Archer okay?"

In the world of Mark, nobody could compare to the redhead slumped in the chair in front of him from lack of sleep. He knew she had been terrified for Archer, although why he supposed he'd never know. The guy was a prick and even more of a notorious manwhore than he himself was. But whatever the reason, he was there whenever Addison needed him; it was involuntary, completely out of his control.

"He's fine," Mark whispered soothingly. When she looked down at her knees, Mark knew she was losing a battle with the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, which soon escalated into sobs. She tried desperately to keep quiet but failed utterly, her choking noises attracting a few stares from nurses down the hall. Her curled red hair framed an utterly gorgeous face that was, at that moment, covered in black mascara smudges. She was huddled up, her arms around her knees. It was a posture he recognized from all the times he'd comforted her during her lonely marriage. Those days had ensured that he knew almost everything about Addison and how to take care of her.

"Ssh," he said softly, lifting her. He tucked her head against his chest and tried to settle her endless legs comfortably. She didn't fight him, so he wrapped his arms so tightly around her it was possible that her air supply was cut off. She didn't seem to mind.

They had a mutual understanding that even they couldn't fully grasp the implications of. It had frightened him in New York, and he cheated. It had scared her in Seattle, so soon after having her heart smashed to pieces by the divorce. They simply understood each other on a very rare level, their own special frequency. Addison knew after watching him for a few moments with Lexie that there was something going on between them. Mark realized the second the back doors of the ambulance burst open that she was freaked out and more broken than she was letting on to anyone.

"I was so scared." Her voice was barely audible, but he heard. She sounded like a small child, revealing depths to him that she did to no one else.

It wasn't right, and it wouldn't last, but he allowed himself just those few minutes to pretend with her. It wouldn't be long before she got up, wiped her tears, and pretended it hadn't happened, and he returned to Lexie and smiled along while still smelling Addison all over him. But in that moment, she needed him, and he was there.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

It had taken her an age and a half, but she was finally ready.

She was ready to be Derek's fiancée and eventually his wife, ready to carry his children inside of her. Once upon a time the idea had terrified the hell out of her, but she was a different person than she'd been then. She found herself thinking of where they could get married, imagining what their kids would look like, and hoping for an entire lifetime.

She'd always been the girl who'd had a tad too much tequila, the girl guys liked to do but were afraid to love. Derek was the first person who'd ever made her feel otherwise, and in the long run, it had done a lot for her self-worth.

"Hey," came a voice from behind her, and strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist. The feelings that usually lay dormant inside her exploded as Derek's skin brushed hers.

"Hey," she replied, suddenly feeling unbearably happy, even though he'd been acting strange. Derek kissed her cheek softly and then spun her around to face him. She searched his face for clues about what had transpired with Archer Montgomery, but she couldn't discern anything from his expression. "How is he?" she asked aloud.

"We'll have to see," he sighed. "I operated, to save him for Addison, but . . . I don't know. I'm not sure yet if it worked, or if I was too late, or even if he'll wake up. We got all the worms and sacs, but that's no guarantee. If Addison loses Archer now . . . It'll destroy her. I think she's lonely, she doesn't really have anyone, you know? Anyway," he sighed again, his blue eyes troubled. She could tell the strain of an impossible surgery and the complications with his pregnant patient were wearing on him. "What are you thinking about?"

"Babies," she blurted out truthfully, and then sucked in her breath.

"You're thinking about babies again?" Derek asked, amused.

"I'm thinking about babies again," she confirmed.

"What about babies?" He was way too intrigued. Usually she avoided topics like kids as if they were death itself.

"Nothing, really. Just thinking about our future potential babies. Did you mean what you said about wanting my crappy babies?"

"Every word," he confirmed, kissing her lips this time. She wrinkled her nose at him, although she really just wanted to push him into an on-call room. No, what she really wanted to do was _demand _to know why he was acting so funny, but he was already so stressed about Archer . . .

There was probably a logical explanation. Neither Cristina nor Lexie seemed overly worried. Mark, Owen, and even the Chief were all staring at her. What did it mean? What did they know that she didn't? And did Derek have something to do with the blood red rose petal that had found its way under her pillow?

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She wasn't sure exactly how she'd ended up here.

It was all so beautiful, the colors so vibrant, the feelings so evident, that her eyes pricked with tears. It was supposed to be simple: He loved her, she loved him. Everyone was the star of their own love story, everyone except her. Every kiss, every touch, every smile cut her deep. She was the only one with nobody. Not that she had nothing – three houses, a twenty-five million dollar trust fund and the ability to save lives with a couple cuts and sutures certainly wasn't nothing. It just became utterly meaningless when the fact that she was alone was being shoved in her face.

Addison was surrounded. Meredith was sitting on Derek's lap, his arms tight around her; smiling as his lips brushed her neck. Naomi sat holding her brother's hand tightly, her face tight and concentrated, as if she was willing him to get better. Sam sat beside her in support, the huge grin on his face indicating that the voice on the other side of the phone was that of his girlfriend. He wasn't the only one on the phone; Bailey's expression revealed that it could only be her husband she was talking to. Alex and Izzie were sitting a few feet away. Her head was on his lap, and he was stroking her hair gently, whispering to her softly. Even Mark had somebody. A twenty-four year old intern, but still somebody. She looked at him as if his face were the sun, sky, and stars combined. It was admiration, yes, but something more as well. She wanted them all to be happy, she truly did. But each painful pulse of her heart reminded her that she didn't have what they all had.

Addison Forbes Montgomery was a wreck. A beautiful, Prada-wearing, rich, desirable wreck, but a wreck nonetheless. She felt like a shell of her former self, only pretending not to be in complete ruins. Everyone had left her, even her dead son who she was not allowed to think about. It was not Derek's impending engagement that upset her – she was at the point where she could wish him every happiness with Meredith. It was a melancholy feeling, but one that she would have been able to deal with. Seeing everyone happy took its toll, but really, to be perfectly honest, it was . . . _him_. Him perfectly content with someone who was not her. Maybe their wedding would eventually follow Derek and Meredith's, she wasn't sure. Already Addison was cursing herself for her weakness with him earlier. Mark certainly didn't know he was killing her by smiling at his intern, and he was not doing it intentionally, to hurt her. Still, she thought being staked would probably hurt much less. Whatever inner strength she had previously possessed was leaking away as life stacked up its chips against her.

The breath that escaped her lips signaled the end. She'd had enough – time to go find something she could fix, something that apparently wasn't herself. The pit was like a beehive, the activity slightly overwhelming in her introspective state. The red of blood, the grey of despair, the black of death, they all matched her mood exactly. So many patients, so much hurt, so much sickness. Apparently this was not about to help her out. Because with every injury she saw, she became surer and surer that that was her on the inside.

At least, that was true until the doors opened one last time. Addison sprinted forward to catch the boy without a thought. She yelled for a gurney without realizing what she was saying and cradled him against her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she noticed the color of his hair – similar to hers. She'd always pictured the baby she'd lost having that exact shade of hair. But then again, she thought she saw him in every child that came into the hospital. Eight years later, she knew she shouldn't be thinking about him. She couldn't seem to help herself, however – as the years passed, she always looked at the children a year older and a year older. This boy was just a random redheaded eight year old, and it just so happened that her son would have been eight.

Addison could almost pretend that he _was _hers as she lifted him onto the bed and clutched his little hand tightly. Blue eyes met light green, and he held onto her with the same desperation as she held him.

He was probably the cutest eight year old she'd ever seen. His copper hair flopped onto his forehead, and celery colored eyes took in every detail around him. Impish features were accentuated by a slightly upturned nose would give way someday to rugged, chiseled good looks. As his face turned toward her trustingly, her heart contracted. His gaze shifted between her, his teeth dug deep in his lip, to the doctors questioning him.

"Go ahead. It's okay," she said softly.

"Will you stay?" he asked, his voice raw and pleading. She didn't hesitate for a second, although the head lying on her shoulder was slowly staining her shirt red.

When she finally couldn't take it anymore, Fate intervened.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He was finally about to get everything he'd ever wanted.

Derek just needed to figure out the perfect place to propose. The perfect gesture. He didn't want some grand cliché, but he didn't want it to be unceremonious or unmemorable either. Something unique, something that Meredith would like . . . he had nothing. No idea.

He knew Meredith deeper than just the surface, deeper than the person she showed to other people. He knew her soul. He knew all the goodness and all the fear and all the feelings of unworthiness and compassion and hope that made her Meredith. The words of his pregnant patient earlier made him think of Joe's . . . but he did not want to propose to her in a bar. There was his land where Meredith had built the candle house, but that already had one big romantic memory, and he wanted to make a new one. He definitely didn't want to do it at the hospital or her house, so where else was there?

Derek wanted to start the rest of their life together _soon. _

He sighed as he examined Archer's brain scans. He had done it. Against all odds, he had done it, just like Addison had saved his pregnant patient and her son. Doubt was becoming a constant companion, but he allowed his eyes to unfocus and his brain to wonder, to float away into a world of ifs and imaginings and possibilities, an ocean . . . An ocean. Well, the Puget Sound wasn't really an ocean. But there was water. And ferry boats. Derek grinned as the perfect idea began forming in his head.

* * *

**This was just the intro, and a lot of setting up the next few chapters and giving the story a general direction. I'm going to include more bits from the crossover in later chapters. It will mostly be told by Derek, Addison, Meredith, Sage, and Mark, but may include other perspectives as well. I am rather apprehensive about this chapter, so please write me if you liked it. I am open to suggestions for further plot details you may have, as everything is not set in stone. Anyway thank you for reading, and drop me a line if you don't mind :D**

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	2. All of Yours

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**2. _All of Yours_**

**Haha, I just realized that Bizzy is evil in pretty much all my fics. Oh well, _somebody _has to be evil, and since there doesn't seem to be a lot of love between Addison and her mother, she gets to be the sacrificial lamb. Anyway, All of Yours, the chapter title, is a song by Making April. I know this chapter took a little while to get out, but I'll try to do the next one quicker, I promise. Also, thank your for the very inspiring reviews! I'm glad people are interested!**

* * *

_Eight Years Ago: The Truth_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_The blurry world slowly came into focus again as Addison opened her eyes. Something was wrong, but not the cotton-dry feeling in her mouth, the goosebumps covering her shivering limbs, or the too-clean smell of the hospital. She was empty. It confused her for a moment. Then she realized what was wrong. There was supposed to be two beeps, two heartbeats, two people. And there was only one._

_Automatically, her eyes swept the room, her arm reaching for an incubator that wasn't there. Her eyes widened in horror, and she looked at her mother desperately, questions she was unable to word clouding her eyes with tears._

_But she didn't truly believe it until her mother uttered the life altering words, "I'm sorry, Addison. He's gone. Killed on impact."_

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Suddenly, life was pretty much a nightmare.

As he entered the room and first set eyes on the sight of a red haired boy in Addison's arms, he wanted to run. That picture haunted his deepest, darkest dreams every night. Addison with a red haired child. He could almost pretend it was _their_ child, the one she aborted. True, that kid would be several years younger, still little more than a baby. But he could still _see _it, and the image made him go cold all over.

He'd watched her sprint down to the ER, a strange, lost look dominating the features that were never far from his thoughts. He could see the breakdown lingering on the horizon, ready to overtake her once the stress got to be too much. He followed her, unable to stop himself, even if all he could provide was a shoulder to cry on and a shirt to ruin with her tears. Not that he wouldn't keep the shirt for months after, pretending he could still smell her perfume on it. It had happened before. Damn it, he still had the Yankees onesie.

Both Addison and the boy turned, and his heart gave a strange thump, as if it had contracted too far, and he resisted the urge to clap his hand over it, to stop the pain. _Not her child. Not your child. Stop it, Mark!_ he thought to himself.

Luckily, Addison interrupted his masochistic thoughts a second later. "Mark," she breathed, and he thought he heard relief in her voice.

"Hey, Addie," he said, in a brave attempt to sound nonchalant. "What have we got here? You okay, kid?" He addressed the boy, paying full attention to him for the first time since walking into the room. When his eyes met the spring green ones looking back at him, he suddenly _wanted _the kid to be okay, more than he wanted food or water or air. Which wasn't good. Mark made sure to never get emotionally involved with patients. He couldn't care about this boy seconds after meeting him, especially since he didn't know what the hell Addison was doing. She looked, in her desperate, dejected state, half attached already. Which _really _wasn't good, because it looked like one more patient that didn't make it would send her over the edge.

"He's got some deep lacerations that look like they're from glass, some of which is still in him, a broken collar bone, and he's definitely going to need a CT, ASAP," she rattled off quickly. As she did, Mark noticed her shirt was covered in blood, and realized it was coming from the boy beside her.

"Jeez, kid, what happened to you?" Mark asked as he checked the wounds covering the small body. Addison glared at him, possibly because she hadn't thought to ask it yet. Mark wasn't surprised. When had she gotten to be such a mess? Not physically, of course. Physically she looked nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful. Emotionally? He was willing to bet not so much.

"I was hit by a car," the kid admitted, biting his lip as if he were in trouble. His head still rested on Addison's shoulder in the chair beside him, but he allowed Mark to take a look at his cuts.

"You were hit by a _car_!?!" Addison asked in alarm, pulling back to stare at him. "Didn't someone call an ambulance? Mark, page somebody, anybody, he needs a CT now!"

"I'm fine," the boy said with a shrug. "I didn't need an ambulance. They called one, but I ran away."

"Why'd you do that?" Mark asked slowly, not really focused on what he was saying. Instead, he made sure that all the glass was out of the cut on the boy's forehead before moving to his arm.

"I … I was afraid if they called an ambulance, the people would take me back. I'm looking for my parents, and I can't go back, I have to find them." Mark was surprised by the kid's impassioned little speech. It reminded him of himself, so many years ago, when he begged Mrs. Shepherd not to make him go back to an empty house, and empathy filled him.

"We're doctors," Addison said gently. "Maybe we can help. What's your name?"

"Sage," he answered. "Sage Green."

"Cool name," Mark blurted without thinking.

"Mark, so not the time," Addison said, giving him one of her famous looks.

"You don't like it?" Sage asked her in a heartbreaking voice.

"No, I do," she assured him, the connection between them so palpable he could almost taste it. "But I just think Dr. Mark should _focus _on your arm. And we can focus on finding your parents. What are their names? Do they live here in Seattle?"

Sage didn't say anything for a long time, and Mark finally looked up to see what was wrong. "I don't know their names. I've never even met them," he admitted. Mark and Addison exchanged a quick glance, both concerned. "I grew up in a boy's home not too far from here. They were supposed to come find me there, but they never did, so now I have to find them."

"How are you going to do that?" he asked curiously, impressed by the boy's courage to run away. Sage opened his mouth to provide an answer, but at that moment the door swung open, revealing Meredith, Alex, Cristina, and a blonde peds surgeon.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

There was a lot going on her life, but she was still aware enough to be shocked.

Meredith had been expecting a fairly normal day. She'd gotten up, kicked Derek out of the shower, eaten a few bites of breakfast so as not to hurt Izzie's feelings, and hurried to work to see what cases she could worm her way onto today. It wasn't long before she was snapped up by Dr. Robbins, who needed help on an emergency peds case. Alex and Cristina, with nothing better to do, had followed quicker than vultures to a corpse.

As the door slid open, all three people occupying it turned to face them, and Meredith barely avoided gasping aloud. Addison's hair mingled with the hair of the small boy on the bed next to her. She stood, unable to move, just watching them. Was she going crazy? Was she seeing things that weren't there? Was she the only one that could see the resemblance between the three?

Arizona Robbins moved forward, asking questions as she went, leaving Meredith gaping behind her. They would know, right, if Addison and Mark had a kid? Derek would know, Derek would have told her, she was sure. But what were they doing in the room of a kid that looked exactly like them?

"Is it just me, or is that really creepy?" Cristina asked from beside her, and she almost shouted in triumph.

But Addison and Mark were answering questions in hushed voices, so she whispered back to Cristina, "It's not just you. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was their kid."

"Are you sure he isn't?" she asked, looking back at them. They jumped out of the way as the boy's gurney was wheeled out of the room. To her surprise, both Mark and Addison stayed beside it. They were arguing about one thing or another on opposite sides of the bed, the boy looking between them, obviously entertained.

While she and Cristina were staring, Alex was following, and Dr. Robbins turned, in surprise, to find him still there. "Fine, Grey, Yang, you can find another case," she called back to them.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, but being off this case is actually a relief. Whatever weirdness is going on between Satan and McSteamy … well, I don't want to be a part of it," Cristina said.

"A part of what?" Derek asked, sauntering up to them and giving her a wide smile. Her heart picked up double time, even though he stopped a few feet away from her.

"Something really weird just happened. I don't know exactly how to explain it. But I have a feeling … this is just the beginning," she struggled to explain. Gone were the days when she kept everything on the inside, within a thick shell. That shell had been melted by Derek, stretched to include him in every thought and every action. His voice, his opinions, his love, he was always there in her if not physically present. She could ask him anything. "Do … do Mark or Addison have any kids?" she asked hesitantly.

Derek balked visibly, but he answered, "Mark … not that I know of. As for Addison … she was pregnant when I met her, actually. But her son died in a car crash before he was born."

"Oh," she said, her stomach lurching as she uncovered a dark well-hidden secret, and wishing that she hadn't. "That's – that's awful. I just got this really weird feeling. Sort of like the bomb, but not really … a something-is-about-to-happen feeling."

"You're right," he said, his eyes burning into her soul. "Something is about to happen – the best hour of your life in the on-call room!"

Cristina made a vomiting noise and backed up quickly. "Gross. Please, spare me the mushy gushy-ness or I'm leaving."

"I think you better leave, then," Derek said, and he kissed her, pushing her back into the wall with his enthusiasm. Meredith kissed him back, their tongues dueling desperately, neither one able to get enough of the other.

She pulled back after a minute, realizing that they were not in their own little bubble. "Derek," she hissed with a grin as he grabbed her hips, pulling her close and showering her neck with kisses. He didn't stop to speak or acknowledge the other people around them. Meredith slid along the wall, her hands hitting doorknobs, searching for the on-call room she knew waited, hopefully unoccupied, nearby.

Mercifully, their own private utopia was found behind the third door, after Derek nearly persuading her that they should just use the broom closet behind the first door she opened and an embarrassing encounter with a patient in the behind the other door. Meredith was barely aware of Derek shutting and locking the door, she only counted the seconds that passed when his hands were not on her skin. It seemed an eternity, and she exhaled heavily when he returned, lifting her scrub top up over her head. His lips replaced the thin cloth covering her skin, and the pleasure was so intense that it was all she could do to rid him of his clothes too. They were swept away, both of them existing in a world devoid of everyone else, and before she knew it Derek was on top of her, inside her, all over her, whispering her name as their bodies moved together.

A few minutes later they carefully crept out, looking both ways furtively, their post-coital cuddling cut short by the racket made by Derek's pager. "I would have stayed if it were anyone but Archer," he assured her. "But Addison will kill me if even the tiniest thing goes wrong, so I better go check on him."

His hand lingered on the small of her back, responsible for the feelings still coursing through her body, until the door closed behind them and they were forced to go their separate ways. He grinned at her as he was quickly sucked into the steams of people moving throughout the hospital. He walked backward, their eyes still locked as the distance between them grew, and Meredith couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something very important.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The name echoed through her mind incessantly, not giving her thoughts a moment's peace. _Sage Green._

"You okay?" Mark asked from beside her as they sat outside CT, Dr. Robbins having banned them from entering with a strange look on her face. As a new surgeon, she did not yet have the authority to ask why the head of Plastics and a world renowned neonatal surgeon were not off doing their jobs, but she was clearly wondering. Alex, too, seemed on the edge of inquiring if they'd both gone insane. Addison was grateful he hadn't; she didn't have an answer to that question. She shrugged at Mark, and he let it drop.

Passersby were staring at her, and she did not find out why until someone stopped and asked if she was okay. Addison assured them that she was fine; turning to Mark in the exact same second he turned to her, both completely nonplussed. Something registered in his face, and he reached out a gentle hand to unfold her arms, his fingers burning her skin. That's when she noticed she was covered in blood, Sage's blood to be specific. _Sage._ Why, suddenly, could she not pull her sluggish brain away from him. Why did her thoughts linger on the details of his injuries, wishing that she could take his pain away, even though she already had far too much of her own?

"Jeez, Addison, you look like a critical patient yourself," he laughed. His smile temporarily melted the icy frost that accompanied her inner being, although the warmth was evanescent and would disappear as soon as he returned to his girlfriend. "You're covered in blood. Come on, let's get you some clothes."

Clothes turned out to be a thermie and pair of sweatpants left in Mark's locker. She protested, but he insisted she looked ghoul-like all covered in blood. Finally, he offered to replace the ruined couture if she would just put something else on. It was his caring kindness that convinced her, although she was already mourning the outfit.

Addison shrugged off the jacket and struggled to unzip the dress. Mark's hands were there in an instant, and oh, the consequences of old, deeply ingrained habit. The dress left her in nothing other than a bra and panties, and there they stood, facing each other, neither able to look away, neither able to move forward. Mark's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, and her heart burned with the desire to just reach out and touch him. There was a single instant, a bright, shining, expectant instant in time when she thought he was going to kiss her. And then it was over, and she reached for the sweats, her hands trembling.

The smell of his cologne, still barely lingering on the soft green waffle patterned thermie, made the world seem a little less scary when she pulled the garment over her head. It was too big and clung in all the wrong places, but Mark drunk in the sight of her in the thermie and pale pink underwear as if she was wearing a perfectly fitted silk dress. Addison pulled the sweats over her feet quickly, and rolled them up so they would fit.

"Sorry," he said, she suspected, to break the terrible silence. "I don't have any clean scrubs."

"This is fine," she assured him quickly, trying to erase the leftovers of their strange moment. They left together, their hands nearly touching, out into the hospital until Lexie spotted Mark and waved him over excitedly, nearly jumping up and down.

"Hey, Mark, guess wha – hey, isn't that your shirt?" Addison couldn't help the slightly perverted feeling of pleasure that crept over her when Lexie's eyes widened at the sight of her in Mark's clothes. She was far from hating the young intern, but she couldn't imagine what Mark saw in her bubbly perkiness. Addison was annoyed just watching her. And pigtails? Wasn't twenty-four too old for pigtails? Hell, eleven was too old for pigtails, in her opinion.

"Addison … could you excuse us for a minute?" Mark asked. She nodded quickly, backing up, stumbling over the too-long sweats. But she couldn't keep herself from hearing the next part of their conversation, couldn't make herself leave the spot where she lingered around the corner.

"What was that all about?" Lexie demanded in a sickly sweet voice. Addison couldn't tell if she was suspicious or not.

"Addison introduced herself to you, right?" Mark asked. Addison winced; his voice was too defensive, considering nothing happened. Well, something almost happened. Or, at least she thought that something had almost happened.

"Yeah … but I didn't know your relationship was at the wear-each-other's clothes stage," Lexie whined, as if Mark was in the wrong by not telling her.

She could almost see his shrug, his broad shoulders lifting, revealing the lines of hard muscles under the deep blue scrub top, his eyes wide and innocent. "Me and Addie have known each other for a long time … seriously, her wearing my clothes is no big deal."

Lexie seemed to ponder that for a moment, and then she asked, her voice severely accusatory, "Have you told Derek about us yet?"

Mark coughed, obviously trying to buy time. "Um, well, Lexie, I don't know if that's the best idea …"

Why? Was he saying that because he was afraid of Derek, or because he wanted to, because maybe he didn't want to be in a relationship with her? Addison's breath caught, the thorns of her painfully hopeful thoughts piercing her heart. She wrapped her arms tight around her body, trying to hold all the dichotomous thoughts and emotions inside just one person.

She could still _feel _his hands, reaching out to brush the pale crest of her hip bone. She remembered the sensation of his lips, so hot they nearly burned, against her skin. She remembered when the only thing between them was the cool rush of ink-black night, soon heated by two sweaty bodies moving in a perfect, even rhythm.

Addison shook herself and readied herself to hear whatever would come next. "Fine then," Lexie snapped. "If you can't even tell your best friend, if I'm not worth that to you, we are _done _until you can!" Addison flinched as Lexie stormed away, heading in her direction, but wherever the young intern went, she didn't encounter Addison. She heard Mark sigh tiredly. If he took just a few steps, he would find her. What would happen then?

"Addison!" Naomi exclaimed, rushing up with Sam hot on her heels. "What the hell are you doing?" She gave Addison no opportunity to answer as she grabbed her arm. "What are you wearing? Is that aftershave I smell? Never mind, I don't have time to deal with your naughty habits. Derek told us to find you. It's about Archer."

She allowed her best friend to hurry her away, glancing back at where Mark still stood. He didn't look at her, just at the floor, and in that instant she would have traded the world to pull away and go back to wrap her arms around him. But she looked away instead, and because she did, she didn't know that Mark's tortured eyes followed her as she was led away, unable to ignore the strange tingling feeling in her limbs.

* * *

**Sorry, I know Derek and Sage didn't get to narrate at all in this one. But that's okay, they have large parts in the next one. I hope you liked it! I would be ever so grateful if you would let me know what you thought, but I love you anyway just for reading it :D**

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	3. Helena

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**3. _Helena_**

**Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love hearing what you think of this story. This chapter skips around a little, but I think (hope) it's not too confusing. The chapter title is the song Helena by My Chemical Romance, which fits the mood, I think. You'll see when you read it :D**

* * *

_Eight Years Ago: The Lie_

_**Parental consent for the release for adoption and/or placement:**_

_**Signature: **__Addison Forbes Montgomery_

_Bizzy Montgomery sat back to admire her handiwork. It looked real enough; nobody would be able to tell that this was not her daughter's writing._

_There was a gurgle from the incubator beside her, and Bizzy spared one glance at the wide eyed baby beside her. Smooth little arms and legs, endearingly chubby, punched and kicked the empty air, and she sighed. He wasn't meant to be. This baby was just an obstacle in a life that had so much more potential. Addison never should have been foolish enough to get pregnant just before beginning of her career, or stupid enough to think she could keep the baby._

_And the father … Bizzy shook her head in disgust. He was already long gone, up and running before the first rays of dawn even touched her daughter the morning after. He was nothing, nobody, an embarrassing mistake that she and Addison could now forget. Bizzy still remembered Addison coming to her house a few months ago, trying desperately and unsuccessfully to hide her expanding stomach under loose clothing. Bizzy dropped the necklace, Addison's only memoir of the one night stand that got her in the situation in the first place, in an envelope, leaving it for the little boy. The crystal key dangling from it caught the light, and she sealed it, also effectively sealing away memories of the incident._

_Once this baby was gone, Addison would leave too; go back to New York and her old life, because maybe she would finally believe that there was nothing for her in Seattle. This little scandal would blow over, people would gossip with her instead of about her and her wayward daughter, and Addison would be able to focus on what was really important._

_Bizzy stood, looking down at the innocent little face one last time. She had no idea of the turmoil she would cause the innocent child at the time, but she wouldn't have wanted to know either. For a second, she wavered. He was a cute baby, cuter than any other baby in the nursery. Whoever the father was, Addison had good taste, he must have had amazing genes. But then she remembered what he was: a leftover mark on the whiteboard that needed to be erased; a rip in a tapestry that needed to be sewn up quickly. Bizzy remembered why she was doing this; she was doing it for her daughter and her career._

_She had nearly made it out of the nursery, where she'd finally be able to put this past behind them all, when she heard one of the nurses speak. "I'm surprised she's not keeping him."_

_Bizzy whirled around, and she spotted two young nurses, as sweet and innocent looking as young girls, bent over the baby she'd just put up for adoption. They didn't know, yet. Their faces didn't show any comprehension of the never-ending difficulties of life. They were young, like Addison, and they didn't have enough experience yet. "Don't say anything," the other nurse urged. "It's probably hard enough on her. She's trying to do the right thing for him."_

"_Yeah," the first one sighed. "She just sounded so excited to be a mother. Kept asking how her baby was when we brought her in. He's got her red hair."_

_Bizzy left, right then and right there, her coat billowing around her as she walked away, determined not to regret her decision._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She searched for a clue, a worry, a hint of bad news in every millimeter of his face, but she found none. She no longer knew that face almost as well as her own, so if there was something wrong, if Naomi and Sam had pulled her away from her hiding place for a reason, she didn't know it. Addison hung on every single breath of Derek's, waiting on tenterhooks for information about her brother.

Derek laughed as he finally noticed her and her strange behavior. "He's fine, Addie, I promise. I just wanted to tell you that Archer will make a full recovery. In fact, he can be on a plane home in a few days if he wants."

Her shoulders sagged and she smiled weakly in relief. Beside her Sam and Naomi celebrated loudly, but she had not the strength for anything much but alleviation of her anxiety.

When he stepped up behind her, just there in the off chance she needed him, she _felt _him. Was it possible that she could actually detect the heat radiating off Mark's body? Could she truly feel the barest hint of his breath tickling the back of her neck? Her hours of sleep lately had been few and far in-between, and the world was taking on a permanently blurry edge.

But with _him _standing there, she could feel everything. Muscles tensing, clothes brushing against suddenly sensitive areas, blood being pumped ever faster. She felt it all, and worried at the meaning of it. She could feel it, looming close on the horizon and coming closer still, but she ignored it.

"Back to Joe's!" Naomi yelled a second later, and Sam was quick to join in. "Derek, Addison, Mark, you coming?"

Derek agreed quickly, begging for a minute to go find Meredith, but Mark looked at her. He just … looked at her. Addison's breath caught as his face came into sharp relief. She could see every different hue of blue in his eyes, every hair in the short stubble covering his chin, the white of his teeth against his comparatively tan face. There was nothing but her and him in the world, and their connection was tugging at her, pulling her, yelling at her. It was not to be ignored, and she was a fool for having tried.

At that moment, Derek returned with Meredith, Izzie, Cristina, Alex, Owen, Miranda and Callie in tow, and voices rushed between Addison and Mark once again. She looked away quickly, trying to regain her footing, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Mark smile. There was no doubt that he was playing it cool, and casual, and all she could think about was their lips connecting, disconnecting, being mashed together in furious passion …

"Addison, come on!" Callie said loudly in her ear, and she jumped guiltily. Everyone was pulling on coats, and she rushed to locate hers as well, before remembering that she was wearing … sweats.

"I can't go to Joe's in sweats!" she moaned.

"We'll find you something!" Callie promised. "Just come on!"

Addison barely noticed the softly sprinkling rain or the sounds emanating from Joe's, signaling an already established party. She only woke up when Callie started shoving clothes at her in the bathroom. Cool air on her bare skin forced her sluggish brain back toward awareness, and she pulled the clothes on, so keyed up with relief and tension and attraction that she didn't know what to do with herself.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Callie laughed.

"Nothing. Nothing. I'm fine. Let's go get alcohol," she said, grabbing Callie's hand.

By the time she surfaced after however many shots of tequila, Joe was scrambling just to keep everyone under control. The noise in the club jumped and peaked at irregular intervals, and being at least slightly buzzed seemed a requirement. Meredith and her friends were laughing, Derek and Sam arguing about something that sounded like sports, and Naomi was getting to know Callie and Miranda. And Mark was … looking at her. Again.

If she had known, days or weeks or even months later what was to happen that night in the club, what that night would mean in her life, the events it would put into motion, she would have had a few more shots of tequila. But she didn't know. So she got up as he made his way over to her chair.

There were no words as he led her out onto the dance floor. The clothes Callie had given her definitely qualified as club appropriate, but they were obviously not Callie's, judging by the sizes. It didn't matter. She was drunk, she was going slightly crazy, and she was in a freaking club.

She was going to dance. Nobody at Seattle Grace knew that she could dance. They probably thought she was too uptight or snobbish to grind like she was right now. Mark smiled, because he remembered wild nights on the dance floor from their internship, shook his head, and placed his hands on her hips. They moved together, slow at first, but then faster and faster until they reached the beat of the music pulsing around them. The heat created by his hands and the friction between their bodies was almost too much to bear. Their synchronization was flawless, Addison found herself wondering why she didn't do this all the time. Her body flailed a little more wildly than Mark's, she'd had a lot more to drink, but their skill on the dance floor didn't go unnoticed. Soon a similarly moving crowd surrounded them.

Derek shook his head at her, amused, and she smirked at him until Meredith pulled him out too. Callie, Naomi, Sam, even Alex and Izzie joined them before long. She heard, in a separate, more lucid part of her brain, Cristina say, "No _way_! We are not going to go dance with all those drunk idiots! Look at them! I didn't even know Satan could dance!"

Owen's begging was carried far away by the noises filling the club. Her attention was diverted anyway. Her body, Mark's body, their hips moved in circles, he spun her around, and before she knew it, their noses were touching. She barely hesitated before leaning in and pressing her lips against his firmly. He gasped at her intensity and kissed her back. She didn't think, she didn't regret; caution was a thing of the past. All she did was act and react, and before she knew it, she was pushing Mark out of the circle of dancers and back toward the bathrooms of Joe's.

They practically fell through the door, neither able to get close enough to the other. Her back was slammed against the wall, and the tinkling sound of the buttons of her blouse hitting the floor as Mark ripped it open was the only sound besides their harsh breathing. Then his lips were brushing over the soft skin of her chest, licking up the delicate beads of sweat gathered there.

She felt about to combust with passion and lust and _want_. Mark seemed to be feeling the same way, judging by his bodily reactions, and she forced her hands between them to liberate him from his khaki slacks with a grin. He reciprocated by shoving her skirt up her legs and pulling her panties down to her ankles. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he lifted her. They took a second, a second that was at the same time an eternity, to just rememorize each other's faces.

Soft blackness, flavored by sweat and thrill and lust and the strange taste of their connection, surrounded them. His lips were pressed up against the creamy skin of her taunt neck, her hands were threaded through his grey tinted locks. In that moment, Addison did not think herself weak or stupid or impulsive. In that moment, it was right.

Then he was inside her, and the world blew up in a flash of pleasure.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The folders, in two, even, perfect stacks in front of him, told a tale no words could perfectly capture. He'd sweated and agonized and worked his ass off to save the people represented in both of the piles. Some of them lived, some of them died, he could accept that. It was part of his job.

Then Jen died. She died, and it was his fault, there was no denying or disputing that. He was, like her husband had accused, a murderer. _You killed her! You're a murderer! _

That sentence pushed him off a cliff he hadn't fully realized he'd been at the edge of. Now his life's work mocked him, emphasizing the failure and death. He was done.

Two nights ago, he'd been twirling Meredith unskillfully around the dance floor. Two nights ago, he'd been laughing inside because he _knew _Mark and Addison were in the bathroom having sex. He'd given him permission, after all. Then something had happened between then and now and Mark had said something about Lexie earlier and he'd lost it. And beat him up.

It all cycled through his head, a jumbled, painful, infuriating mess. _She _is_ dead, Derek. _What? _I'm seeing Lexie. _What? _No more blood, Derek. _What? _Where's my wife? _What? You_ put the scalpel down! _What? What? What?

Derek had considered himself a good surgeon, he truly had. But that obviously wasn't true. He killed people. He sent them on their way to whatever darkness awaited them after life. He used to believe in Heaven, sort of. Now he didn't. He used to think he was a god. Now he thought himself a fool.

He stood up, mulling over what Meredith had said about most of his patients being terminal. It didn't matter, didn't she get it? They were dead either way. The dead stack was looking at the saved stack the way a bully looked at a puny kid.

Utterly disgusted with himself, and unable to contemplate another minute in the office of the devil who had killed so many, Derek stormed out. Voices chased him, worming their way into his brain. He needed to stay, he had surgeries, he was supposed to operate. He shook them off as he walked out the doors. There was no knight, there was no McDreamy, there was no light or happiness. He was done operating, done killing people, forever.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Rain dribbled down the window his head was pressed up against, just like blood dribbled down the heart that had been mercilessly torn up. He could still taste her. His body still remembered what it was like to be inside her, where he would never be again.

Mark's mind involuntarily dredged up memories of the past few days, although he did not want to face their vivid detail. The pain was too fresh, too intense, too sharp for words, and he did not particularly want to relive it.

There was just one scene he knew he'd never forget.

The morning after their sexcapade in Joe's he'd searched for her fruitlessly until he caught a glimpse of cherry red through the pouring rain. She was soaked through, her wet scrubs hugging her slim curves, and her face was tilted up toward the sky, as if she was drinking the rain. He'd joined her on her lonely bench, not minding the rain because she didn't seem to mind it.

"Why are you out here?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Why are you avoiding me? Do you regret it? Is that what this is?"

"No, Mark, I can't regret it, and that's the problem! This always happens. I'm just not strong enough to … to stay away from you," she said, and her voice was anguished. "We've tried this before!"

"And you're saying we can't try again?" he asked, feeling ice creep up to encase his heart.

"No … no … I'm just … so confused," she moaned. Tortured green-blue eyes sought out his. "What are we doing?"

"I was dating Lexie," he said, as a way of explaining that he was confused too. Confused or not, he wanted her, and dating an intern or not, he loved Addison. A second later he realized that wasn't the best sentence to start with.

"Yes, you were dating a twenty-four year old intern, I know!" she yelled, hurt flashing across her face. "Is that why _you're _out here? Because _you _regret it? Well, fine. To Derek I was an obligation; to you I'm a regret! If you want to go back to you intern, fine! I hope you have a fucking perfect little happily ever after!"

He stared at her for an instant too long, trying to undo what he'd done. "That's not how it is, Addison," he began, but she interrupted.

"Save it, Mark," she snapped, before walking ever further out into the rain. And he was forced to realize that this was her out. This was her escape.

That had been the last time they'd spoken. And now his heart felt swollen, and it throbbed with every aching beat. He'd talked to Derek, told him he was dating Lexie, because he hoped she could be his anesthesia. He didn't love her in the all-devouring way he loved Addison. That was good. He hoped he never loved anyone that way again. Because love? Love, he thought, was putting someone in a position to destroy you, and trusting them not to. They use the phrase 'broken heart' for a reason.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Sage looked up curiously as the door opened. Being in the hospital wasn't nearly as fun as he'd thought it was going to be. He was supposed to be looking for his parents, not lying around. He smiled as his favorite doctor, the one with the red hair just like his, came in. Addie. She said he was allowed to call her Addie.

"Hey," she said softly as she shut the door. "Did they ever figure out what was wrong with you?"

"No," he sighed. "They're still doing tests. All I know is that I have a really bad headache."

"Yeah, me too. Do you mind if I sit in here for a while? My ex-husband is going crazy, his girlfriend doesn't know what to do, my ex-boyfriend is being a jerk, my brother and my friends are on a plane home, and I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Sure, of course you can stay. Do you want to play tic-tac-toe? I was playing myself, but that isn't very fun because I always know where I'm going to put my x's and o's." She smiled in relief, and he smiled back.

He'd never really had a friend at the boy's home. They told him he was weird, different, a freak. His brilliantly colored hair stood out from their dull shades of brown and black. He could beat even the oldest of them at soccer, a fact which certainly didn't make him any friends. Football was harder for him, because he was small and skinny for his age, and he preferred to read instead of getting pushed around in the mud. They made fun of him for his nighttime wanders outside alone in the dark, for thinking he could find his parents, for believing that they could feel him like he could feel them.

But Addie walked over and sat beside him, pulled a pen out of her pocket, and drew an O in a space on the grid he'd drawn. He made an X, blocking her, and they continued back and forth for several games.

"I don't have anywhere else to go either," he said when she insisted that he needed to rest. "Until I find my parents, I don't really have anywhere to belong."

"How are you going to find your them?" Addie asked curiously. She was not skeptical like the others; she seemed to believe that he could do it and would do it. So he told her what he'd never tried to explain to anyone before.

"I don't know. I can just feel things. I felt that I should leave the boy's home, and not get in the ambulance, and that I should go here. And being here feels right. Maybe I'll know, when I find them, I don't know. I can sort of sense things sometimes." He waited anxiously for her reply to the thing he'd never felt he could confide before. But she had barely opened her mouth when the door opened and several doctors flooded in.

He recognized Dr. Mark and Dr. Callie and Dr. Richard and Dr. Miranda and a whole bunch of others he didn't know. Addison stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder, and although he was scared he took a deep breath.

"Sage, I'm very sorry, but you're going to need surgery. We would get you into the OR right now …" Dr. Richard told him. Sage felt like jumping beans had invaded his stomach at the mention of surgery.

"So why don't you?" Addison interrupted aggressively.

"It's a complicated procedure. And Addison? Derek's gone," Dr. Mark said. He did not quite understand the sudden bleakness that filled the room, but it felt like the jumping beans had multiplied.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"GO HOME, MEREDITH!" he yelled, and she tried not to let the words affect her along with everything else he'd said that night as the door of the trailer slammed behind him.

Derek was hurting. She'd been in his position, felt just like he had, albeit for different reasons. And true, she used to go get drunk on tequila and screw random guys, so she couldn't exactly empathize with beer can batting. Maybe it was better than sex with inappropriate men, as Alex had put it. Then again, either way, you were still screwed, literally or figuratively, so it probably didn't matter.

Derek had just called her a lemon and batted their engagement ring out into a sea of grass. So she had, for once, been inches away from a happily ever after. Who knew? And the rose petal, she supposed, was explained, if Derek had been planning to propose.

The question now was what to do? It would be so easy to leave, to run, to forget, but she had promised herself that she was done with running. Standing here wasn't doing her or Derek any good.

Derek. He was being an ass, but he was hurting more badly than she had ever seen him. When she had been hurting, he had been there. "You were there for me!" she yelled at him, thinking he needed to hear it, thinking he needed to remember that just because Jen died; it didn't invalidate all the good things he'd done. "You were there for me during one of the worst parts of my life. You saved me from drowning, Derek! I almost committed suicide, and you saved me."

Meredith paused, gathering her thoughts. She had never been good at the pep talks, but she would try, for Derek. There wasn't much she wouldn't do for him. "You were my knight in shining whatever. But knights can't win every battle. Sometimes they lose, and they need help getting up again. So now it's my turn to be here for you. You don't get to write off what we have in just a few sentences. You have the right to be hurt and angry and sad and scared, but you don't get to just push away our relationship like you're doing to everything else."

The slamming of the trailer door still echoed in her ears, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he was listening. It seemed to her like she was alone with the soft sounds of night, that the darkness and a lost ring were her only companions, because the man she had seen wasn't Derek. But she had to believe Derek was in there somewhere. "I'm here when you're ready," she finished. "I'm not leaving; I'm going to be here for as long as it takes. I'm here," she called to him, and hoped in her heart that he heard her.

The seat of her car was not the most comfortable bed, but she settled down to wait. Derek would have done it for her, she was sure. And although she brushed her fingers over the buttons of her cell phone, she didn't make any calls. There were only two people she could think to call anyway. She could wake up Cristina and tell her that Derek was gone, a shell of a man left in his place. But Cristina wasn't the best person when it came to relationships. Or she could call Addison, who must have dealt with Derek when he had lost patients before, and who would surely know what to do. But she didn't. Although Addison would have probably been willing to help her out, she had enough troubles of her own, and she wasn't Derek's wife anymore.

This was her fight now. And she was going to win, damn it.

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**Well, what did you think? Please tell me, I love getting reviews :D Also, do you like the longer chapters, or would you prefer shorter ones? Let me know. This is probably the last chapter in which this story will really follow the show. If something happens in the show that I can work in, I'll try to do it, but it's pretty AU from here. And a little angsty. This chapter was full of angst, as I noticed when I reread it. If this chapter was a person, I definitely think it would be emo, with eyeliner and and everything.**

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	4. Shattered

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**4. _Shattered (Turn the Car Around)_**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy this update :D  
Just a note about the flashbacks – they do not go in chronological order by any means, and the story is revealed in bits and pieces. If you pay attention to the years you should be able to figure it out, I think.  
I know the chapter title, Shattered (Turn the Car Around) by O.A.R, is overplayed and probably overused, but it just fit. Both Derek and Mark have to turn their figurative cars around.**

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_Nine Years Ago: The Morning After_

_The sounds of waves crashing onto rocks, unseen for miles and miles, woke Mark from the best sleep he'd had in a long time. He'd been drifting freely, unsure of his course and unable to plot one, but now he felt … different. Unexplainably different, and he had no idea why._

_He also had no idea what he was doing on a rooftop overlooking a brilliant azure sea, naked except for a blanket. He sat up, completely bemused, and felt like something was missing. It only took him a few seconds to realize that the crystal key that usually decorated his neck was gone. And then it all came back, a flood of memories that left his mind scrambling just trying to make sense of it._

_Her eyes, they had been the color of the very ocean stretching out in front of him now. The light of the party highlighted her blonde hair, but he had suspected, even then, that perhaps she was not a natural blonde. He ransacked his memories for anything more about her, but alcohol clouded his precious recollections such that he couldn't even picture her face._

_She'd been unbelievably beautiful though, he remembered that. He also knew they'd talked, and danced, and sometime during the evening he'd impulsively given her the crystal key necklace. Mark didn't usually relate to people very well, but her … they'd had something special. And now she was gone, leaving only longing and a broken heart in her place._

_It seemed impossible that he could be in love after one drunken night on a rooftop in Greece. Mark had never been in love before, but he thought now that he knew what it felt like. And although he vowed then and there to search for the girl until he found her, when circumstances finally brought them together, he would be none the wiser._

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Meredith woke up with her face smashed against the seat and the worst backache she'd had in years. And although she could barely move, she yawned and stretched and hauled herself out into the cool morning mist because Derek needed her.

Sounds coming from inside revealed that Derek was up, alive, and willing to move around, which she took as a good sign. What she did not expect was for him to pop out the front door a few seconds later, looking like he was about to puke.

"I'm still here!" she called when he wavered and recovered, luckily with a lack of flying chunks. But Meredith regretted it when he looked up a minute later, because there was no one at home in those eyes. Wherever Derek Shepherd had gone, getting him back was going to be no simple task.

But she'd vowed to fight, to do whatever it took, even though it scared the hell out of her. This was their dawn, their beginning and if she couldn't get Derek through this then she didn't deserve to stand by his side.

"I'm still here," she repeated while her brain operated on overdrive, formulating sentences that would hopefully bring Derek, or at least a small part of him, back. "I'm not leaving, Derek. My place is here now. You have the right to be drunk and angry, and you even have the right to quit if you want to. I hope you don't, because you're the best freaking neurosurgeon in the country, maybe even the world. But the choice is yours."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a flicker of life in his dead eyes, a hint of spring in endless winter, so she continued on. Meredith had never been the one people depended on or confided in, but that had to change. If she was going to be Derek's wife and have a family someday soon, she couldn't let fear and escape play key roles in her life anymore.

"Of course, there are patients who need you, Derek. Not some second rate surgeon that nobody's ever heard of, but you. They're in that hospital right now, sick and dying, and you're they're best chance of surviving. So you made one mistake, Der. We all make mistakes. I seem to recall dropping a kidney not too long ago."

Like spring's new buds, humanity blossomed in his bluebell eyes, eyes that had belonged to a corpse mere seconds ago. Derek stood stock still, but something in him seemed to be reacting to her words, or the way that they were said. Actually, her presence, concentration, and encouragement was what was saving him, but Meredith didn't know that. All she knew was that it seemed to be working.

"So you can continue complaining and bitching and yelling, or you can come back to the hospital and do the job you were meant to do. Either way, I refuse to leave, because the one thing you can't do is scare me off. I'm done being scared."

Derek's reaction took her completely by surprise. She'd seen him upset numerous times, but she'd never seen him sob. Still, through his volatile catharsis she sensed that Derek was back, and she couldn't tread through the grass to his side fast enough. When she laid a hand on his shoulder, he didn't pull away. And when she rested her head gently on his back, he leaned into her.

The air was easier to breathe once she knew beyond a doubt that Derek was okay. Meredith was content to let the tears continue until he was rid of them and the poisonous self doubt that was escaping with them. He still had a ways to go before he reached his former level of confidence, but certainty that he would make it cascaded through her.

When he pulled away, they were caught in a moment of ultimate understanding. The dew was slowly turning Meredith's jeans into a sodden mess but nothing in the world could have moved her in that moment. The degree of love she saw in his eyes sent shivers down her spine, and whatever he saw in hers, it seemed to affect him similarly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, when he turned and began crawling through the grass.

"I'm looking for your ring," he said, smiling the smile that had gotten him lucky in a bar the first time she'd ever met him. And together they combed the grass with absolute concentration, seeking out the symbol of their approaching future together.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

White spots of light flashed behind his eyes, although it did not illuminate the surrounding darkness. Sage lifted a hand slowly and probed the white bandage encircling his head, but felt nothing: the hammer causing the worst headache of his life was pounding in the deep recesses of the back of his brain, not his forehead.

He almost wanted the surgery now, if it could somehow take away the throbbing that caused a surge of pain every time he blinked too hard. The doctors earlier, buzzing around like bees in a hive and administering numerous tests, had not managed to explain what was wrong, at least not in lingo he understood. Fearful of the tests that made his head spin every time he moved, Sage had not informed them of his aching wrist, nor had he summoned the courage to ask for Addie. She had disappeared after giving him a quick hug, promising to find Dr. Derek for him, but she had not returned, and nobody else seemed keen on clarifying where she had gone or what was going on to the eight year old.

Sage extracted his feet from the thin white sheet and slid until they touched the icy floor. Sleep, it seemed, was nowhere to be found tonight, his head had seen to that. He might as well explore the hospital. There was probably food somewhere; they had not given him any in preparation for a surgery that had yet to occur.

A muffled sound was coming from outside his doorway, and as the door slid open he spotted a figure leaning up against the wall of his room through the dim light. The person must have heard his footsteps, because they looked up after a particularly loud sniff and saw him.

"Sage?" the whisper came, and even the barest amount of light revealed bright hair the color of strawberries, easily identifiable because it matched his almost exactly.

"Addie!" he said in delight, and she favored him with a watery smile. He joined her, settling down against the wall next to her, and instantly felt comforted.

"I thought you were asleep," she told him softly. "How are you feeling? I tried my best to find Dr. Derek, but he's, um, well; nobody really knows where he is. And I called half the other neurosurgeons in the country, but none of them can be here for a few days, they're all pretty booked."

"I'm okay," he lied, not wanting to make trouble. Growing up with thirty or so other boys in a place where nobody really cared had taught him not to make a fuss. "Why were you crying?"

"Oh," she said, wiping her eyes. She looked at him in the near darkness, as if unsure what to tell him. From the force of her sigh, she might have been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and Sage realized that she probably had other things to worry about besides his surgery, and he felt guilty. "Well …"

"You can tell me," he said earnestly, earning another valiant attempt at a smile.

"The man I love is in love with someone else. His girlfriend," she told him sadly. "And we've both made a lot of mistakes in the past, and a lot has happened, but I still loved him, so I did something really, really stupid. And I thought he loved me too, but … I was wrong, I guess. He's moved on. So now I'm alone."

"I'm sorry," Sage whispered. He was hit by a sudden awareness that problems spanned beyond that of lost parents and a terrible headache, and although he'd never experienced love like she was describing or anything close, he appreciated that pain existed that he'd never felt.

"I was alone at the boy's home," he told her, to make her feel better. "I didn't have any friends at all, because everybody thought I was weird. What I told you before, about feeling things … well, sometimes I just know things, and sometimes I knew stuff about them. They didn't like that very much. Plus, they didn't believe me about finding my parents. So I had to stay outside a lot, away from the home so they couldn't find me when they wanted to beat someone up."

"Oh, Sage," she whispered, and in that moment their hearts reached out equally to each other. Sage leaned his throbbing head on her arm, a few tears leaking onto the soft material of her scrubs. "I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."

"What's wrong with my brain?" he asked after a few minutes, when the pain peaked and he could hardly stand it.

"Your brain has a contusion, a bruise, honey. It's been a few days since you got hit, and that's when the swelling gets worst, which causes intracranial pressure in your brain. That's like it getting squeezed, sort of, which isn't good for it. The surgery will fix that," Addie explained, and Sage was relieved to finally understand that the excruciating pain was just caused by swelling.

"Ouch. It really hurts!" he said when a fresh wave of agonizing pain washed over him. It felt like his head was being split in two, or being stepped on by a giant, he couldn't decide which. He opened his mouth to speak, but threw up all over the ground instead. To his immediate alarm, the world began shrinking away, but soon he was so lost in a world of pain and torture that he was barely aware of Addison shouting instructions and lifting him onto a gurney.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Each step, each word, each movement felt like his first, as if he had only just entered the world. Derek discovered that coming back out into the world hurt as well as healed him. It was better than the apathetic deadness he'd previously possessed, but he part of him suspected that he would shatter just as easily as glass if reality hit him too hard.

The shrill ringing of his phone disrupted their little piece of Eden in ways he could not yet fathom, much less be ready for. To venture off his land would be like leaving the safety and warmth of his mother's womb, like being born again.

Astoundingly, they'd found the ring out in the broad expanse of grass surrounding his trailer a few hours ago, just as it was getting dark. The tiniest sparkle, like the miniscule chance that had allowed him to meet Meredith, had alerted him to it. It now sat safe in his pocket, ready for the perfect proposal, although he was not. A little more recovery time was required, both for him and for Meredith, and he wanted the moment to be special, not tinged by his depressive episodes.

"Derek Shepherd," he said curtly into the phone, not bothering to check the number.

"Derek," someone breathed before the phone was tugged away from them. Meredith watched curiously, concern etched into his face, but when he looked at her, she only gave him a supportive nod.

"Derek, this is Mark. Listen, man, I get that I'm probably the last person you want to talk to right now …" Mark rambled on, sounding nervous and desperate at the same time. "No, Addie, you can't talk to him!" Derek heard him say in an aside to Addison. "Just calm down, I'll handle this."

"It's okay, Mark," Derek sighed into the phone. "I overreacted. If you want to date Lexie, date Lexie. I don't really care anymore. I'm sorry for punching you out and -"

"Nevermind about that right now," Mark said tersely. "We need you here, Derek. There's this surgery, and …"

"Someone else can do the surgery!" Derek snapped angrily, fear making his voice harsher than he'd intended.

"Who? Shadow-Shepherd?" Mark snorted. "No, Derek. We got a dying kid here. He had a concussion and a contusion, and his brain was swelling, but we were going to wait for you to get back, assuming you got back today. But he had a small subarachnoid hemorrhage that the CT didn't detect, and it got worse and his brain is bleeding pretty badly now. We need you, Derek."

_We need you, Derek. There are patients who need you, Derek. You, you, you!_

_I can't! _he thought, fear bubbling like acid in his stomach. No. Just no. There was no way he could go into surgery now.

But a kid needed an operation, one that he would die without. If he refused to operate because of his own personal problems, then he would be responsible for another death besides Jen's, and he couldn't let that happen.

"What is it?" Meredith asked, breaking the silence, while Mark waited with bated breath.

"I have to operate. There's a kid who'd dying," Derek said, but his vocal inflections made the former statement sound more like a question instead of a declaration.

"Okay then," Meredith said, as if it was already decided. How could he look at her if he refused now? Much as he didn't want to, it was time to get back on the horse. His job didn't provide much down time. Besides, Derek Shepherd didn't turn down surgeries, even if they had only the barest chance of succeeding.

"Derek, there's one more thing," Mark said in a hesitant voice. "Do you remember the redheaded kid? Sage? The one Addison's so attached to? Yeah, it's him."

Derek snapped the phone shut and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blot out the world. Sage. Yes, he remembered him, as if from a different lifetime, the smiling, happy kid who looked like a mini-Mark. There was just no way to say no.

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She might have been an ice statue for all the movement her body exhibited.

Derek, who still had several days worth of stubble and a slightly manic expression in his eyes was bent over Sage's frail body in the OR below, and the only way to contain the panic inside her was to keep completely still on the outside. Her breath fogged the glass separating her from the action inside, partially obscuring her view. But she still did not move, because she couldn't decide whether she wanted to see or not.

There were always special patients, ones you become more attached to than others, but somehow … this was different. Her actions were probably a result of her loneliness and general confusion about life lately, but she didn't care. Sage needed somebody to take care of him, so why not her? Sure, she had an illusion of a life waiting for her back in LA, but not even a hint of desire to return to it, because she was tired of pretending.

Seattle had always been a pit of blackest despair in her life, although she also always ended up returning. Her son had died here eight years ago, and Derek had left her to come here, and cheated on her here. There were few happy memories that Seattle possessed for her, so what was she doing here yet again?

It was not like things were shaping up to be much better this time anyway. The events of the past few days exploded through her head, overwhelming her. Archer nearly dying, meeting Sage, Mark having a girlfriend, Mark breaking up with his girlfriend, having sex with Mark in Joe's, fighting with Mark the next day, Mark going back to Lexie, Derek going crazy, and now Sage nearly dying, it was too much for just much for one person to handle. She had been pushed to the breaking point one too many times.

She needed something, _something _to get her through. The thread of her falsely contented life was unraveling, being sewn into something new, although she did not yet know it. Her fate was being entwined with others in such a way that could never be undone, the events already set into motion even as she watched Derek skillfully perform the craniotomy that would save Sage's life.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"So then Megan slept with Steve when she and Pierce broke up, and now she's pregnant and afraid to talk to either of them, but they won't leave her alone. I wasn't really _that _close with her, but we've worked on some cases together, so I talked to her, because she's kind of freaking out …"

Lexie's expounding about the silly, dramatic problems of the interns washed over Mark without really registering. Chief in his thoughts were Addison, who was on the brink of a meltdown, and Sage, who was in surgery right at that moment. He didn't have the energy or the desire to care what was going on in the world of intern at the moment.

Lexie hadn't noticed that his mind was elsewhere yet, but her relentless prattling was easy to ignore, leaving his mind to wander off deep into his memories.

The thought that Addison didn't want him was too much to bear, and while being with Lexie provided a distraction, it wasn't where he wanted to be. He wanted to be by _her _side again; he wanted to share secrets to the tune of their perfectly matched breathing late at night, he wanted to spend his days under the sunshine in the park, talking the long hours of summer away; he wanted run his fingers across her silky, coconut scented skin again and bury his face in her fragrant scarlet waves and never move again.

It was wrong to be thinking these things while sitting across from his girlfriend, but Mark knew a part of him would never let Addison go, unattainable as she was. Just like he'd never stop searching for the girl he'd spent the night with in Greece nine years ago. But he would keep these thoughts close to his heart so they would torture no one but him. He'd never been the storybook prince like Derek, never been set up to have a happy ending. He could never find the first girl he had feelings for, nor be the woman he currently loved, nor ever meet the child she hadn't kept.

Still, he realized quickly that the generic cafeteria was not where he was supposed to be. Lexie looked shocked as he stood abruptly and muttered something about a patient. He wasn't trying to be mean, he was just used to the way Addison could interpret his every mood. Lexie didn't understand him on the profound level she did. It always came back to her, no matter what he tried to do. Without her, he didn't know who he was. He was turning around, going back to her once again, even if it was only for a few minutes.

He moved in a dreamlike state through the hospital until he reached the gallery overlooking Sage's surgery. She was there, of course, her face pressed mere millimeters from the glass, apprehensively studying Derek's every movement. He stood on the other side of the gallery, watching too, wondering why his life felt balanced on the outcome of this surgery. As they watched from opposite angles, neither was aware of the importance and relevance of the event they were watching, just like Sage didn't know he was closer to his goal than he'd ever dreamed.

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**Okay, so, is anybody else sick of all the Mark/Lexie fics that are popping up? Because it seems like half the fics are about them these days. Sorry. That was my venting moment for the day.  
Anyway, I just wanted to say that not everything in this story is set in stone. I have a plan, but if there's anything you want to see, feel free to let me know!**

**Reviews are lovely!  
:) :) :)**


	5. Love Like Winter

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**5. _Love Like Winter_**

**The title of this chapter, Love Like Winter, is a song by AFI, (which I do not own). One of Addie and Mark's conversations was inspired by some of the lyrics. I think that's all I have to say today. Read, and let me know what you thought!**

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_Eight Years Ago: The Second Coming_

_The first time he saw her, shining like a beacon in the otherwise dull grey streets of New York, he was fresh off the plane from Europe. He simply stood still for a few moments, completely entranced, drinking in her image like a man that had gone for days without water._

_The bench on which she sat was unoccupied except for her, and even from across the street he thought he could see her crystal tears. She fascinated him, something separated her from the partiers inside, something marked her as special._

_He could have watched her for eternity, but his legs moved seemingly of their own accord, bringing him closer until she looked up from where she was crying, and the haunted green-blue eyes that met his cut his previous ties to the world and rearranged them, so all he could see was her._

"_Are you okay?" he asked, because he couldn't think of any other way to start a conversation._

_She simply stared for a moment, confusion causing an adorable wrinkle in skin as smooth as cream. She must have seen something in him then, the first hint of their connection, because although he could tell she lowered her barriers to few people, she said, "No. I'm not."_

"_I might be able to help with that," he told her with a smirk, but then diffused the disapproving look caused by his innuendo by offering her a caramel apple. She looked shocked, but unwrapped one hand from around her stomach to take it._

"_So. You randomly carry caramel apples around?" she asked, the barest hint of a smile adding a touch of light to darkness clouding her face._

"_No. Not really." Actually, he'd bought it for one of Derek's nephews because he'd forgotten to get the little boy a present on his trip like he promised, but he thought candy would be better to a kid than a souvenir anyway._

"_Thanks," she whispered, but as she did, tears spilled down her cheeks once again._

"_What is it?" he asked impulsively, but she didn't answer. "A guy? I'll beat him up for you," he offered charmingly._

"_Yes, it was a guy. My little guy. My son died before he could be born," she said, and the pain present in her voice was nothing to the punch in the stomach he had just received._

_He knew who she was._

_Derek had called him just as his plane was beginning to board, to give him directions to the party. His girlfriend's brother's party, apparently. His best friend's first words to him in over a year echoed through his head._

"_Be nice to this one, Mark. For once, just promise me you'll be nice and not scare her off. Although I'm not sure if you actually could scare her off. Addison might give you a run for your money," Derek chuckled, and the loving adoration in his voice made Mark want to vomit. Maybe it was because he'd finally met a girl, over nine months ago now, that he wanted to talk about her in a reverent voice like that, but she'd been taken away before he'd ever gotten the chance to know her._

"_Why? Is she the one or something?" he asked mockingly. He'd had very few good relationships with Derek's previous girlfriends. They were starting their internships, just like they'd always dreamed, but now there would be some annoying girl tagging along._

"_Yes, I think she is," Derek said seriously, and Mark realized that in the year he'd been gone, Derek had been slowly slipping away from him the entire time. They would still be best friends, but Derek was turning into a different person, one who wouldn't spend days drunk as they wandered from town to town, stirring up trouble and screwing anything that moved. Although the latter had mostly been his job. _

_Then Derek said something that made him feel like a complete asshole, "And she lost a baby, Mark. So be nice, okay?"_

_Now as Mark stared at her, he wasn't upset at Derek because he'd have to put up with his girlfriend, he was upset because Derek had beaten Mark, Derek had found her first._

"_I'm so sorry," he whispered, and as she gave another sniff he reached out and took her hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They were both shocked at the electricity that passed between them, a current so strong and heady that Mark felt dizzy, like he was drunk off the feel of her skin on his. But she was broken and hurt and Derek's, so he knew he couldn't aim any higher than friendship. "I'm sorry," he repeated, engrossed in trying to identify all the shades of red in her gorgeous hair. "But that caramel apple really might make you feel better."_

_Her smile blazed brighter than the sun, and a sharp ache filled his chest because he knew he'd never have her. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he'd just come from a continent famous for its majestic castles and stunning Mediterranean coastlines. But beyond that, he could see in the slump of her shoulders and in her skinniness despite recently being pregnant that despite her tough exterior she really was broken, and he hoped with all his heart that Derek could fix her._

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"You did it," Meredith whispered, her fingers gently tracing the lines on his face.

"I did it," he agreed, fingering the box in his pocket in nervous anticipation. His heartbeat picked up, thumping at twice its normal rate as he mentally prepared himself. Today was his day. They'd made it through the dark, together, and now it was time to start toward the light.

"You were amazing, Derek, you really were. It would be a waste, you doing anything but surgery," she told him, and her smile was infectious. Despite his nervousness, he felt on top of the world. It felt like the experiences of his life, good and bad, had summed up to make this moment, or the moment he would create when they reached the ferry.

If she said yes, he'd be starting preparations for a wedding at this time tomorrow. If she said yes, he'd get to watch her walk down the isle in just a few months. If she said yes, hopefully a the beginnings of a family would be on the way before too long.

Did she know? Did she suspect that they were on the cusp of a change that would affect them forever, hopefully with years of happiness following close behind? He had never exactly been good at being alone; growing up with a fairly large family had done that to him. And much as the glory of surgery made him feel the youthful, invincible hero, he wasn't exactly getting any younger.

Despite her claims that she was 'dark and twisty', Meredith seemed bathed in light as they walked hand in hand, her soft humming and near skip just adding to the charm that she was oblivious to. Would she say yes, after all they'd been through?

Before too long the ferry stood in front of them, an unaware catalyst for change. They stepped on this ferry together but still apart, loving each other but still separate entities. When they left on the other side, he hoped that they would have promised to become a single one instead.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

A soft beeping interrupted his dreams full of white, and the monochrome vision faded as his hospital room came into view. For a second he was confused, wondering what had happened to the dreary walls and shabby bunk beds of the boy's home, but then it all came back to him and he sank back against the pillow in relief.

"Hey, you're back among the living," a voice said from beside him, and he turned to find Dr. Mark grinning at him. "You gave us a scare, kid. Addie's gonna kill you for giving her a few grey hairs," he said with a chuckle.

"Sorry," Sage said timidly.

Mark laughed again. "Hey, I was kidding, kid. She'd be in here to see you too, but she had a surgery. Are you hungry?" he asked, holding up a tray of food.

Sage nodded, and Mark handed him the tray. "When will I able to play soccer again?" he asked after a minute of frantic eating, half expecting to be reproved for talking with his mouth full, but Mark didn't seem to mind.

"It'll be a while, kid. You're gonna have to stay here with us for a bit. Sorry, I know it sucks. I used to play soccer too, in high school. You any good?" Mark asked.

"I can usually run circles around Ryan, and he's sixteen," Sage stated, and Mark's eyebrows rose.

"Nice. I scored the winning goal in the championships in high school by doing the rainbow. It was pretty sick," Mark said, and their conversation made him wonder what it would be like to have a father to talk to like this all the time, and longing for all the things he'd been deprived of filled him.

"One time I scored off a bicycle kick, and it was the coolest thing ever."

"A mini Pelé, huh? You're what, eight? And you can play better than kids in high school? You could go far, kid. We should play together sometime, when you're feeling a little better." Sage's heart swelled with excitement at Mark's words. He wanted so badly to say yes to Mark, but then he remembered that he had to find his parents. However, the sense that usually guided him was strangely absent, and Sage wondered if it meant he was supposed to stay here.

"Can I have more pudding, please?" Sage asked the nurse who entered to check his bandages.

"You haven't even eaten your vegetables yet," she said disapprovingly, and Sage grimaced. The food here was much better than at the home, and he enjoyed eating other things besides the bread, soup, and porridge that made up the usual menu there.

"Wink at her," Mark whispered, nodding towards the nurse. He demonstrated for Sage, and he tried to imitate him, blinking his eyes tightly, and Mark chuckled. "Close enough. Now try it on her," he urged.

"Can I have more pudding, _please_," he asked again, attempting to wink, and this time the nurse favored him with a smile.

"Alright. I'll see what I can do," she promised, and as soon as she left Mark held out his hand for a high-five.

"You're a natural, kid. Just try that on all the girls in about four years, and they'll be all over you."

"Thanks Dr. Mark!" he said, and they exchanged grins, for a second both overtaken with boyish companionship.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Although his hotel room was so dark he could barely see his hand in front of him, Mark thought it was positively bright compared to the black tempest inside him. As his exhausted brain dredged through his memories in endless circles, he counted the minutes to midnight, wishing for the alcohol that would allow him to sleep without her.

Outside, the stars shone like revolutionary diamonds that had left their mother sun behind, and their apathetic watchfulness over his pathetic life inspired him to reassess. He was only a few years from forty, and yet a twenty-four year old slept next to him, too naïve to understand his pain. His arm rested loosely around her, but in the places where his fingertips brushed her skin there was no fire, only the ice that ran rampant through his veins.

After a minute or two of evaluating his life, Mark decided that Fate was a cold-hearted bitch who seriously had it in for him. Every time he got close to something good it was taken away, and everything he touched got screwed up in the end. Even Lexie would inevitably lose her innocent trust unless he found away to keep Addison off his mind, a daunting task he immediately wrote off as impossible. She was ingrained into every aspect of his life, the pain of unrequited love and a child killed before it was born only increasing each time she left him.

There was also his unorthodox 'Cinderella' from Greece, who, instead of leaving a shoe, stole the key to his heart instead. She'd left too, before the morning light could even touch her face, and she'd screwed him up first, making her responsible for the endless blondes he'd slept with in futile hope of finding her again.

He squirmed in face of all his failures to be the man he had secretly always desired to be. And yet he still left the bed, cold air causing goosebumps to ripple over his bare skin. He had a chance right now to be the good guy and stay with his girlfriend, and yet that prospect was so devoid of life that he could hardly contemplate it. Once, he had been able to sleep at night, when she was beside him. Even when she was married to Derek, they used to fall asleep on the couch after endless hours of movies, her soft breathing lulling him to sleep. Now, it took copious amount of alcohol to summon even a hint of slumber.

He could not escape his image in the mirror, even in the dim light. He touched his freezing, icy skin, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to find something good about what he saw. When they were together, though, she'd always joked that she was definitely the better half, the sweet part of their relationship while he was the sour. Too extreme on their own, but perfect together.

If he saw her, would sleep finally find him? If he apologized, would he be able to stand looking at the man in the mirror? If he made her laugh, would that lessen the pain even by an inch?

Before he knew it, his clothes were on, his hotel door was open, and his car was starting, almost of its own accord, and the hotel was shrinking into the distance in the soft rain. Endless days and nights at the hospital had made it seem like surely sleep-time was imminent, but in reality it was just getting dark. How many hours had he and Addison been at the hospital, taking care of Sage as though their lives depended on his survival? She was probably still there, too, although she'd promised him she was leaving.

He had almost reached the hospital when he suddenly swung the car around, having spotted something that inspired the perfect idea for an assured reconciliation.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The sunlight spilled out over the calm waters of the Puget Sound, only disturbed by the ferry cutting through it as easily as Derek's scalpel had cut through numerous patients throughout the day. Watching him perform three successful surgeries in a row had restored the peaceful calm inside her, and their future together came into focus once again.

Had she been paying more attention, perhaps she would have noticed him fidgeting and the sweat on the hand clutching hers, but after the insanity that had reined for the last few days, she just enjoyed the quiet moment.

She'd assisted Derek in the successful clipping of an aneurism when she'd first arrived at the hospital, and then she and Cristina had watched his second surgery as they discussed the various issues and drama surrounding their respective boyfriends. She'd watched Addison and the red haired boy, Sage, eat pudding, reluctant for some unknown reason to interrupt their moment and tell them that Sage needed another CT. Lexie had bugged her at lunch, demanding to know if she knew where Mark was. Then she and Bailey had performed a textbook appendectomy and it had been time to go home, Derek showing up outside the scrub room with a piece of cheesecake he'd procured from some unknown location and a bright smile.

"Meredith," Derek said suddenly. He had appeared deep in thought as well just a minute ago, but now he spun her around to look at him, a strange look in his eyes that gave her a funny feeling in her stomach.

"What, Derek?" she asked, looking back at him with the same intensity that he looked at her, and she felt that the feelings present were enough to set the ferry on fire at the very least.

"We've been through a lot," he breathed. "Your internship, Addison, the end of my marriage, Doc, Finn, your mother's death, your almost-suicide, Rose, the clinical trial, the candle house, and now my depression. And yet somehow we're still here, loving each other more strongly than ever. So many times throughout all of that I thought I was going to lose you, but I never did. But I never want to take the chance again," he said, and she knew this was it.

Meredith's breath caught, the air somehow thicker than usual, and she had to remind herself to breathe every few seconds. This was it, finally, the beginning of her happy ending. The sun dipped every closer to the sea until it eventually seemed to melt into it, and they were both caught up in the most perfect of twilights. She'd imagined this moment many times, but none of her fantasies had even come close.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Meredith Grey," he said, squeezing her hands and then releasing them to pull the ring out of his pocket. He didn't get down on one knee, and she was glad: she and Derek were anything but cliché. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his breath ghosting out to touch her face.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you too, so yes, Derek Shepherd, I will," she said, and then, unable to stand still for even another second, she launched herself into his arms. He lifted her off the ground, twirling her around and around the ferry, and soon her laughter was mixed with tears and their faces were so close and all she could think about was Derek, Derek, Derek.

"It took us a while," he chuckled when she calmed down, revealing a bottle of champagne that they drank from a paper bag as the ferry docked. "But we got here, didn't we?"

"We did," she said, still unsure how she, the dark and twisty one, had bagged a happy ending. Weren't they only supposed to exist in fairytales? Or was she living one now? Derek was the knight in shining armor, that was for sure, but did that make her a princess? And what did that make Cristina and everyone else?

"Cristina's the crazy knight with the mace," she giggled out loud, picturing it. "George can be a jester and Izzie's the fairy godmother," she continued.

Derek was staring at her as if unsure whether he should put his bride-to-be in an insane asylum. "What are you talking about?"

"Our fairytale!" she said, and he pretended to weigh the champagne bottle, as if measuring how much she had already drunk.

"Bailey's the fire breathing dragon," he added with a chuckle. "Mark is a wayward, womanizing noble, and my dear ex-wife is the self-declared Ruler of All that is Evil."

"The Chief can be king," she returned.

"The interns are the servants, obviously. We need servants in our castle," he replied.

"And what about me? What am I?" she demanded teasingly.

"You're mine," he said, kissing her feverishly, and as the ferry docked they faced their rapidly approaching future together, hands entwined.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Though she had been nearly sleeping on her post-op notes, head inches from resting on the table where she could sleep if she chose; she woke fully when someone's burning touch met her shoulder. She knew who it was, and yet Mark's smile, bright as a beacon of light, still surprised her like every single time it was directed at her.

He flopped down beside her, and the pounding confusion and exhaustion that was clouding her brain lifted and was replaced by the clarity only he could bring her. "You've been far away," she told him, her voice devoid of emotion. Their warm bodies lit up her deep December like a blazing sun. The effect of their proximity reminded her of reactions between chemicals, substances combusting, but the difference was that it only happened between them.

"I'm sorry. Addie, I don't want to loose you. I can't imagine my life without you," he said, and a sudden rush of hope made her heart beat faster. "So …" he continued, pulling a caramel apple from behind his back, "friends? Por siempre; forever?"

"Are you trying to buy my friendship with a caramel apple?" she asked with a rueful smile as she tired to conceal her disappointment. Of course, he still wanted his intern. There had to be something wrong with her, that she could lure men but not hold them. Derek ultimately picked Meredith over her; Alex preferred Ava, and now Mark was choosing Lexie.

"Maybe. Is it working?" he asked playfully, and she elbowed him. Could he truly not feel the magic falling between them like soft rain, making leaning forward and pressing her lips to his her most desperate desire?

"Sure," she responded, and they sat in comfortable silence until he leaned forward and captured a strand of her shining copper hair, twirling it around and around his little finger. Instantly her breathing accelerated, and she thought she heart his quicken as well, and it was the night at Joe's all over again as their faces moved closer as if by some strange magnetic force. It was wrong at the same time as right, and his girlfriend was waiting for him somewhere, completely oblivious, and their lips were nearly touching, the minty smell of his breath enticing her until their noses bumped …

And then her pager went off and the magic was broken and she stood abruptly, fleeing the room as if it were on fire and cursing herself for her weakness.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed when she saw Archer, who had apparently charmed an intern into paging her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty alcove. "You're supposed to be back in LA."

"Why?" he asked in a mockery of her haughtiest manner. "My beloved sister is never returning to sooth my aching heart."

"I'm coming back," she snapped, her voice made harsher by the fact that she doubted the truth of her own words. In LA she walked through the days of her life like a zombie, only pretending and attempting to think and feel. In Seattle everything was as bright and sharp as glass, and even though it hurt it had an undeniable beauty.

"You aren't coming back, Addison. You know that better than I do," he said, his voice carrying the ring of knowing finality that she hated.

"What about Naomi, then?" she asked to distract herself from what had just almost happened with _him again_, and a second later wished she hadn't as guilt wrote itself all over his face. "What did you do?" she demanded, her voice dangerous. But she already knew him, and his ways, and her anger and shock was mostly due to the fact that she had not been in LA to do something to remedy the situation.

"I slept with Charlotte King," he admitted. "Plus some other people. Naomi found out," he said, only a hint of remorse in his voice, and she slapped him.

"You bastard! She comes up here with you and holds your hand while you almost die and then not even two weeks after the surgery you cheat on her!" she yelled, tears born of frustration and helplessness filling her eyes. It was all too much; Sage and surgery, Mark and his undeniable allure, Derek and his depression, and now Archer and his indiscretions, she always got caught up in the worst of drama and she wondered why she got the convoluted mess of a life while others lived blissful fantasies.

"Addie," he said in the calming voice that she loathed, and Addison resisted the urge to slap him again but settled for yanking her shoulder out from under his gentle grip. "You know that's what I always do."

"Yeah, I do know that! You've done it for years! I guess it was stupid of me to think that _just this once _you could be better!" she nearly screamed, and turned around in time to witness the rest of the hospital staff scampering quickly away. Instead of dismissing her words or refuting them, he only looked guiltier. "What?" she asked with a groan, wondering what else could go wrong.

"Well, as you probably figured out, I'm moving back to New York, Adds. But … I've been having some headaches, so I thought I'd have Derek do a quick check-up. The thing is," he continued quickly when she began tapping her foot against the linoleum floor impatiently. "Um … Bizzy found out."

"She's coming?" Addison asked in horror.

"No, she's here," he said, and their heads swiveled in perfect synchronization to see if Bizzy Montgomery's inevitable appearance was nigh upon them.

"What the -" Addison gasped as she took in the scene in front of her. She had been envisioning Bizzy power-walking toward them, beady eyes taking in every detail to analyze for gossip and critique later. What she did not expect was to see her mother collapse in the hall as she tried to simultaneously interrogate Derek, Mark and an unsuspecting intern all at the same time.

* * *

**Well, let me just say that Bizzy's visit brings up a few things from the past …  
Also, thank you for all the great reviews, everyone! They really motivate me, plus they make me smile and write faster :D**

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	6. Sleepers Just Don't

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**6. _Sleepers Just Don't_**

**Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates it!**

**Thank you for all the great reviews for last chapter! You are all wonderful! Some scenes in this story, and in this chapter in particular, were inspired by parts of the movie August Rush. Just a reminder that I do not own it (duh), even though I used some of the lines and scenes from it.**

**The chapter title is the song Sleepers Just Don't by Mayday Parade.**

* * *

_Nine Years Ago: The Before_

_A warm breeze wafted gently across her face from where she stood at the window, gazing down at the lit up streets of Santorini, excitement bursting in her stomach like fireworks. The night was pregnant with opportunity, and Addison couldn't wait to be free of her parent's rented villa to explore it._

_There was a bang behind her as the bathroom door opened and Naomi spilled out, her arms full of clothes and her hair half curled. "Are you done with the hairdryer yet?" Addison demanded, annoyed._

"_Yeah," Naomi said, rolling her eyes. "But I don't get why you're so eager to go to this thing anyway. It's a party your rich parents are having with their rich friends; it's going to be dead boring._

"_You don't honestly think we're staying at their party, do you? There's something going on in the lower city tonight, one of the guys from this morning told me about it. At least I think that was what he was saying. My Greek isn't the best," Addison admitted, giggling._

"_It's still just a party," Naomi shrugged._

"_I know. I just feel like … something is going to happen tonight," she said, glancing out at the moon._

"_You are completely ridiculous, you know that?" Naomi said, exasperated, but Addison barely heard her._

"_Sure," she replied, nodding vaguely, drifting once again over to the window. She could faintly here the sound of a steady beat rising up from below, and she skipped back to the mirror, picking up her hairdryer. "God, why did I dye my hair blonde, Naomi? And why did you let me?" she moaned, staring at her reflection._

"_You said you wanted to try life blonde," Naomi reminded her._

"_Whatever. Let's just go," Addison said eagerly, unaware of the way this night would impact her life forever._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Sage had never been particularly afraid of the dark. In fact, back at the boy's home, night had been his best friend. At night, the other boys slept instead of teasing and taunting him, and the world was finally quiet, allowing him to sneak from his dorm and out into the chilly air to enjoy the evanescent freedom.

The moon, too, had watched over the small boy, skipping through the long grass and jumping over the glossy puddles. At night, nobody cared about what he did, and there was nobody there to tell him that what he was doing was weird. So he was free to climb the highest hill and stare out into the wilderness, telling himself stories about the parents he knew existed somewhere.

His intuitive feelings had always had an illusive tug, trying to pull him gently onward into the black night, urging him to seek out the parents he so desperately wanted. But he'd always been too afraid when he was younger, too scared not of the dark but of the unknown that lay beyond. But one night, still barely a week ago, he had suddenly known it was time. A brief window of opportunity had opened, a chance to find them and unite his family forever, and now here he was. Hurt and injured in a hospital but somehow feeling closer to his goal than ever.

No, although dark's creeping fingers did not usually cause him alarm, something about this night was different. He knew he was supposed to be sleeping, but slumber was difficult to summon, more reluctant than usual to overtake him. Outside his door, the dim light illuminated three figures involved in a heated argument. One was Addie, her red hair easily discernable, her arms waving wildly in the air in clear fury. Dr. Mark stood beside her, not saying anything or taking a side. Occasionally he glanced in at Sage, and when their eyes met he knew Mark could see that he was not sleeping. But Mark didn't alert the others to Sage's observance of their fight; he just stood still as a statue. The third arguer was the boss of the hospital, Dr. Richard. He appeared to be trying to reason with Addie without much success.

When they finally broke apart, Sage dived down under his covers and Richard stormed away, Addison approached his door, and Mark wondered off, looking caught up in a spider web of thoughts.

"Sage?" Addie whispered. "You awake, honey?"

"Yeah," he admitted, surfacing with a contrite expression.

"There's something I have to – hey, what happened to your arm?" she said, her eyes on his lime green cast.

"Dr. Callie said it was swollen and they found a hairline fracture they didn't notice at first because of my ribs and my head," he explained. The brain surgery had ceased the pounding headaches, but he was still required to stay in bed.

"Oh, that sucks," she said sympathetically. They were both silent for a few seconds before she reached for his hand. "Sage? I'm so sorry, but the hospital was required by law to call the boy's home you were staying at," she said, her eyes brimming with disappointment and pity.

"No! I have to find my parents, I can't go back there!" he said loudly, an uncomfortable ball of anxiety and dread forming in his stomach.

"I know sweetie, I'm sorry, but the hospital already called," Addison choked out. "As soon as your head and ribs are better, you'll have to go back."

"I won't," he said stubbornly. "I'll run away again. I have to find them; I don't want to live there anymore."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out tentatively to pull him to her chest. They stayed like that for several minutes, both drawing comfort from each other, because Addison pulled back, ruffled his hair, and told him that he should get some sleep.

He waited until she was gone before sneaking quietly over to the window that bathed his room in soft moonlight. Though the moon was bright, the first star was barely visible below it, and Sage smiled in triumph and whispered softly:

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

Wish I may, wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight."

_I wish that Addie was my mom._

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She was assailed by the enticing smell of vanilla, berries, and whip cream before she even opened her eyes. She was confused for a moment, buried deep in the covers, before she remembered the events of the previous night.

Her ring finger was a stranger, colder and heavier than usual, and when she pulled it out into the morning light she finally remembered: she and Derek were (finally) engaged. His mother's ring, the ring she'd hidden from Addison, the ring Derek had hit into the woods with a baseball bat not too long ago, the ring they'd searched for hours in the damp grass to find, was finally hers.

A small smile spread over her lips, and she laughed out loud when the sound of a pan dropping and Derek's swearing sounded from the kitchen.

Derek, his hands gliding over her sweaty skin last night, eliciting moans as they went. Derek, his lips exploring her body, knowing exactly what to do to make her gasp in pleasure. Derek, reveling in the fact that she was finally his. Derek, kissing her hungrily as their bodies moved together, perfectly coordinated and causing each other the paramount pleasure.

Eager to for a rematch and to see what exactly Derek was doing, Meredith slid out of bed and pulled on his discarded dress shirt, doing a few button haphazardly and skipping out into her kitchen. She never skipped. Dark and twisty girls didn't skip. But maybe she was a bit less dark and twisty than before.

"Hey," Derek said softly as she entered the kitchen, love and wonder lacing his voice. She ran into his arms, breathing in his fresh scent and leaning her forward to kiss him firmly.

"And … how … are we … this morning?" he asked between kisses.

"A bit bright and shiny, for once," she told him with a smile.

"Only a bit?" he pouted jokingly, trailing his lips over her cheekbone and down her neck.

"Well, I can think of a way you could make me more bright and shiny," she said seductively, slipping her hands under his t-shirt and pushing him back against the counter with her passionate kisses.

"Nope, not 'til after breakfast," he said with a cheeky grin, gesturing to the pure white cheesecake on the counter, a plate of fresh red raspberries beside it, and she forgot about sex abruptly (which was a tribute to how delicious the cake looked.)

"So what are we doing today?" he asked once he'd served her and sat on the edge of her stool, fingers roaming over her shoulders and back.

"Going to work, I have to work today," she said casually.

"Hmph. I was hoping we could start planning the wedding," he said, giving her his signature McDreamy smile.

"Der, we got engaged yesterday," she laughed.

"Well, when do you want to get married?"

"How 'bout in a few months?" she suggested.

"They do weddings 24/7 in Vegas," he said teasingly.

"I have a feeling your mom would kill you," she said firmly. Much as she was ready to marry Derek, she thought she might like to get used to being engaged first.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I guess we'll have to go to work today," he said sadly. "So are we telling people? Cause I distinctly remember Cristina not really wanting to tell anyone when she got engaged."

"Yes, we're telling people," she said as she finished her last bite of cheesecake. "In fact, we can have a contest. Whoever tells the most people first wins. I really do want this, Derek, so to prove it to you, I will win."

"You won't win. I'll hire one of those airplanes with the banners and have it flown all over the city," Derek said.

Fearful that he actually might do it (his nickname was McDreamy, after all), she said, "No planes. That's cheating. The contest starts as soon as we get to the hospital. And I call shower first!" she yelled, detangling herself from him and running toward the bathroom, laughing as he hurried behind her. But as soon as they stumbled into the flow of hot water, all thoughts of anything but each other were lost.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

It was that day in the park when he realized he'd never change.

Loving Addison would always be an essential part of his make-up, not something that could be taken away or eroded over the years. He would always think of her first, picture flaming red before deep brunette, love the color of ocean-sky over chocolate brown.

He began to realize, under the newborn spring sun, that he will always long to touch her, always wish that it was her skin he felt under his fingertips.

They sat together, watching the sun touch the frost-covered buds gently, coaxing with warmth, waiting together to hear about her mom.

"I'm sure she'll be alright," he said into the silence, both of them contemplating the rising sun, wondering what the day would bring.

"It's probably nothing. My mother being overdramatic as usual," Addison ascertained, and he realized that they weren't out there out of fear for Bizzy Montgomery. They were there because like it or not, they needed each other. And although they were friends now instead of lovers, the ache would not go away when they were apart. When he was with her, he forgot about Derek and Lexie and surgery and even his 'Cinderella.' Because being with her was all he needed.

The stolen moments, just being together, were savored and replayed during the rest of his day, when things flew by and time stood still. He was only really connected in her presence, only truly living when she was around. He remained the only one who could crack her cool, calm exterior completely, and he knew the beauty that lay inside.

He had to work hard to unlock her, but Addison was worth it. Few people had the depth she did, or the compassion, or the wit, or the magnificence. She'd been a mess since the day he'd first met her and offered her a caramel apple to alleviate her pain, but his ability to love something flawed and imperfect made it possible for him to believe she loved him back. Or had loved him back.

Everything he did, or tried to do, carried a faint hint of her, reminding her of him, and he wondered how he managed to survive everyday without her. Simply filling out post-op notes brought back recollections of New York, of leaning against each other in the hallway and comparing notes on their latest surgeries; waiting to see if Derek would ever appear. Eating in the cafeteria brought back memories of food fights and sharing bowls of macaroni at midnight.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, Mark," she said suddenly. It was this sharing of secrets that perhaps defined their bond more than anything else. "Especially in LA. I'm drowning in normalcy and boredom, and I realize that I'm doing it on purpose, just to drown out the pain. What's better? Being in pain all the time, living in a world full of sharp edges, or feeling nothing at all?"

Mark wasn't sure exactly how to respond, because the truth was he alternated between both. Lexie was his conformity, a blurry, painless world of unfeeling, only living. And Addison was a field of glass, beautiful and sharp and hurtful all at the same time, gorgeous and tantalizing even though she caused his utter destruction.

"I know the feeling," he said finally. "In an absence of emotion you just coast through the day, hoping to make it to the end without really reacting to anything." A silence followed in which they continued slowly through the park, a patch of nature representing wildness and freedom while the city bustled around them. It reminded him of summers spent in Central Park, running and laughing and teasing under the warm sun as their skin slowly tanned. In those moments, they didn't care about strawberry juice on their faces or messed up hair or even Derek's obsession with the hospital.

The sunrise illuminated the hazy corners of the park in bright new light, setting Addison's hair ablaze and tingeing everything in soft gold. She walked with her heels dangling from one hand, barefoot in the soft grass, free from all inhibiting façades and even able to smile when his antics caused a tree to unleash a bow full of water all over her.

"I have an idea," he said, automatically reaching for her hand. The current that passed through them shocked them both, and their arms were suspended in the air for a brief second, fingers tangled, until she pulled away and knelt on the ground beside him.

"What are we doing?" she asked, and she looked so confused and broken that he was willing to bet she was up for anything at this point. He'd broken down her castle walls once again, and she was showing the Addison on the inside, instead of the put-together on the outside that she showed everyone else.

He pulled her down by the back of her cream silk blouse until they lay side by side under the largest willow tree in the park. The back of her charcoal pencil skirt and expensive blouse were being ruined by the still-wet grass, along with his sky blue button up and designer slacks, which he realized belatedly she'd picked out for him several years ago.

"We're breathing," he said as their little breath clouds formed in the chilly air. "Just take a minute and breathe."

And that was why they were them, why they were Addison and Mark. Because they could lie under a tree in the park on a freezing cold morning and understand why that made sense, when nobody else could. And they could ignore, for a little while, the fact that other people existed in the world.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Her feet were still went from her interesting little frolic in the park with Mark, and she blushed when people stared at her wet back, clearly wondering what she'd been up to. The funny thing was, although the time with Mark had been perfectly innocent, it still somehow _felt _like she had been doing something wrong, and she wasn't exactly sure why.

Maybe it was because even though as separate entities, as just friends, they were connected in a way that nobody else could compete with.

"Dr. Montgomery?" an unfamiliar voice called out as she approached her mother's hospital room.

It was Dr. Hunt, Cristina's new love interest. "Yes?" she asked politely.

"Here are the test results for your mother," he said, handing her a clipboard. She looked over it, slightly relieved; because she was sure he would be obligated to tell her personally if it was something bad.

"She was just _dehydrated_?" Addison asked incredulously. That was low, even for her rich, socialite mother. "That's it, she fainted from dehydration. God, she is so high maintenance. No wonder my father drinks so much."

"We think she just overworked herself, but she believes she is dying, and wouldn't speak to anyone until you got here," Owen said calmly.

"Yeah, overworked herself interrogating my colleagues and collecting gossip," she muttered sarcastically. "Thank you, Dr. Hunt," she said a bit louder, and entered Bizzy's room.

"Addison. There you are. Where have you been, and why are you all wet? Never mind, it doesn't matter. We have very little time, so listen up," Bizzy said briskly the second she saw Addison. Archer sat on another bed beside her, reading one of his own books, clearly waiting for Derek to come and do his check-up.

"Mom. Bizzy. You're not dy-" Addison began, but Bizzy interrupted her.

"The will is in the top drawer of the oak desk in the study on the third floor. Make sure your father does _not _get rid of the Renaissance paintings in the foyer, or the …" Bizzy continued blabbing on, but Addison ignored her. Instead, her thoughts turned to Mark, holding her hand underneath the drooping bows of the willow, sharing details from their lives, or little Sage, who would be taken back by the boy's home as soon as his head and ribs were healed.

"Bizzy, stop, come on," Addison said loudly when Bizzy had been going on for five minutes, but she was ignored. She glanced at Archer, her beseeching eyes pleading for rescue, but he did not look up.

"Addison, please, there's more." Addison rolled her eyes, but waited for Bizzy to continue. "All I ever wanted was for you to be successful, to live up to your potential … you were so young, you had so much work to do, you weren't ready." Bizzy's voice, for once, was soft, quiet, almost … regretful. Addison leaned in closer, and she knew even Archer was suddenly paying close attention.

Her mother had never been anything but detached and dismissing to her, even as a young child. She'd been surprised to find when she started school that other kids were allowed to call their parents Mommy and Daddy, and even more surprised to learn that they were actually at home, instead of at work or at the country club. Although Addison had always expressed her disdain for Bizzy's parenting style, Bizzy had always maintained that she'd never done anything wrong. So regret on her faux deathbed was a big surprise to Addison.

"It's fine, Mother, please," Addison said. Whether her mother was apologizing or not, she had better things to do than listen to Bizzy try to atone for past wrongs when she wasn't even dying.

"I mean, a baby at that age." Ice crept up through Addison's veins as Bizzy rambled on. Her mother had never, ever mentioned her son after he died, and had always pretended that he'd never even existed, like he was just an embarrassing mistake better left in the blurry, ever more distant past. "A baby, he could have hurt you. He could have hurt you, and I …"

An unsettling feeling swept over her, something she'd been feeling ever since her son left her. It was like she was missing something, like he needed her, like he was waiting for her. But that was impossible. Wasn't it? He had died before he'd been able to suck in his first breath, and before he'd uttered his first screaming wail, and before she ever got to hold him. She had always told herself it was her imagination, wishing that he was real and out there somewhere, and hoping that Heaven existed if only so he could continue to exist. "I wasn't going to let that happen," Bizzy continued. "I made a choice."

Addison shivered as secrets left buried and forgotten for years began to be unleashed. Her breathing, the loudest loud in the nearly silent room, accelerated. The realization was dawning, slowly as if it were very early morning, crawling out from behind a wall of secrets.

What did that mean, that Bizzy had made a choice? Yes, she had wanted Addison to get rid of her son, but then he died, there were no choices involved with that. Unless … it seemed too good to be true, as if the idea would disappear if she dared to think it … unless he wasn't really dead? "Oh my God. Wait," she gasped, hardly daring to believe it.

"I'm sorry," Bizzy said coldly.

Addison glared, her lip trembling, a million thoughts running through her head. _Wait. Is that even possible? _Could her son be alive? What had happened to him? Why? Why _her _son? Had her mother actually _given her son away? _Was that what Bizzy was trying to tell her, or was her imagination spinning way out of control? Her stomach rebelled against the idea, and her limbs were still as stone. "Where?" was all she managed to get her unmoving lips to utter. She sucked in a breath, and choked out, "_Where is he?"_

"I didn't mean –" Bizzy began, but this time it was Addison interrupting.

"WHERE IS HE?" she yelled, her heart racing, anger and fear and shock and hope controlling her body instead of rational thought. How could a person, how could _anyone _give away a baby that wasn't even theirs? How could Bizzy have told her that her son died, that she'd never see him again, that they'd be separated forever because he'd gone where she couldn't follow? It had affected her life forever, burdening her with a darkness others didn't carry.

Belatedly she noticed several people watching from outside, staring at her as if she was some sort of freak show. Derek was among them, and he gave her a puzzled look through the glass, but she turned away from him.

"I don't know."

Addison gasped incredulously, unable to fathom anyone being so cold. She gave Bizzy a distrustful look. She'd already betrayed Addison in the worst way possible. She'd lied about her grandson's death. Bizzy seemed to sense her distrust, so she repeated, "I really don't."

"Addison," Archer said in a placating voice, but she turned away from them, tears spilling down her cheeks. There was only one thought in her mind: She had to find him. She would do anything, sacrifice anything, tear the world apart from one end to the other, anything to find her lost son.

Of course, thoughts of a certain redheaded boy entered her head. How could they not? Was Sage just a sign, a mere coincidence, a hint of what was to come? Or … but no, she couldn't allow herself to think that, to hope that. If she got attached to Sage and started imagining him as her son, and then found out he wasn't, it would crush all those involved. So thoughts of his mischievous smile, piercing green eyes, and faint freckles on skin tanned from hours outside at the orphanage were pushed away until she knew the full truth.

Pushing her sleek hair out of her eyes, Addison grabbed her coat and reached for the door handle. Then she stopped. "You're not dying, by the way," she snapped at Bizzy, her voice frigid with hate. "But it doesn't matter, because I refuse to _ever _speak to you again. I'm going to find my son."

Their eyes followed her as she burst out the door, parting to make a path so she could make her way through them. She could sense a hundred questions in the offing, but she ignored them all, focused on one thing and one thing only: finding the child who had been so unfairly taken from her, before then could even meet. Derek, Archer, even Meredith called out to her as she pushed through the crowd, but their pleas and queries misted over her, unable to permeate her deep concentration. _I have to find him. _

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**I hope you liked it! Please tell me what you thought/ what you'd like to see. Reviews will help me get the next chapter out faster.**

**Sorry, MerDer fans, not a lot of Meredith/Derek interaction this time around. Sorry about that, but this chapter was focused on Addison, Sage, and Mark. There'll be more MerDer parts in the next chapter, I promise.**

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	7. Northern Downpour

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸** Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**7. _Northern Downpour_**

**Sorry it's been so long! A lot has been going on but I promise to be better about updating! Northern Downpour is a song by Panic at the Disco.**

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_Nine Years Ago: The Awakening_

_The scalding water pouring from the showerhead above her enveloped her body, washing away all disguises and pretenses. The bleach that had previously made her hair appear blonde disappeared with the cleansing water down the drain, leaving her usual cherry red behind._

_She realized she'd been living in a fantasy world chock full of denial: the blonde hair, the rejection of what happened that night in Greece, the secrets hidden from herself and others, the pretending that the best and worst night of her life had not changed her forever._

_She'd felt it. She'd felt the storm coming, events being set into motion that, unbeknownst to her, would still be ransacking and overturning her life nine years later. When she'd gazed out at the moon while she waited for Naomi to finish with the hairdryer, in the before, the feelings in the pit of her stomach had warned her that time's incessantly turning wheel could not be stopped, and nor could it be predicted._

_The sobering truth now lay on the counter a few feet away, the results the cause of her oh-so-rude awakening. Her life had been forever changed by a one night stand whose face she couldn't even remember. _

_Could she really miss him, really want him, really love him after only one night?_

_She tried to restrain her tears as she ran her fingers through her hair, but they would not be contained and insisted instead on running uncontrollably down her cheeks. She sank down until her head hit the faucet, her body bent in a defeated position. The crystal key, hanging from her neck on a delicate silver chain, clanked against the side of the tub, serving only to remind her of what she was trying so desperately to ignore: the black abyss that was her heart and the positive pregnancy test that lay on the counter._

_Finally, Addison summoned the strength to move, hauling herself out of the bathtub and into the sweats she'd discarded earlier, her hand roaming over her stomach unconsciously. She jumped when she heard the sound of the door unlocking and hurried out of the bathroom, wiping up the water she'd spilled as she went._

"_Hey, Addie, look what I got!" Naomi said excitedly, waving two envelopes in front of her face. "Letters! From the hospital!" she said when Addison did not react. She scrutinized Addison's face closely. "What is up with you, Addison? You've been acting really -"_

"_I'm pregnant," she blurted, and Naomi's mouth fell open, her expression greatly resembling that of a fish._

"_What the – What do you mean, you're pregnant?" Naomi asked incredulously. "Seriously? Oh my God, Addison. Who's the father?"_

_Ah, the inevitable question. Who had fathered her baby? She could not answer Naomi, of course, because she did not know herself. Whoever he was, he had been lost in the distant stream of memories of the past. She would have preferred him to stay there, because wonderful as that night had been, it was a fantasy. For one night, he was the prince, and she the princess, but now he was gone and she was alone and pregnant and the fairytale was over._

"_I don't know," Addison said brokenly, and Naomi's shocked face softened as she reached out to embrace her. And suddenly she couldn't hold it in any longer, and she sobbed her heart out on Naomi shoulder, terrified of the now uncertain future looming ahead. "I met him on that night in Greece, but I never even found out his name."_

"_You said you didn't sleep with that guy!" Naomi said in an accusatory voice._

"_Yeah, well, I lied. I thought if I told everyone I didn't sleep with him, he would cease to exist and I could stop thinking about him. But I can't."_

"_What did he look like? Do you think the baby will look like him?" Naomi asked, clearly attempting to reign in her excitement but outright failing._

"_Not really what I need right now, Nae," she snapped, but conceded a minute later. "I don't know, I can hardly remember him. He was hot. Tall, longish blonde hair, ice blue eyes, killer smile."_

"_A baby! I still can't believe it. Can I tell Sam?" Naomi asked, and her excitement was bordering infectious, and Addison managed a smile for the first time as she rested her hand once again on her stomach._

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In retrospect, walking for seven hours through the streets of Seattle had not been the smartest plan in the world. But after finding out that her baby, her little boy, was alive after all, how could she not search for him immediately, for even an echo of his laughter, for a hint of his smile? For any morsel of the wonderfulness that made up the child she'd never met?

Now, after five days of absolute and utter freakout and refusing to return to the hospital until she found him, she was finally using her head and turning her sights on the Seattle Social Services. A reincarnation of the Inquisition was on its way in the form of Addison Montgomery.

She was already soaked through; mundane things like umbrellas were repelled from her mind by her absolute focus on her child. Mothers were supposed to sacrifice everything in order to protect their children, give their very lives for those they birthed, and in light of the fact that her son had been tossed away like yesterday's trash, she felt like a failure.

Not to mention Mark. As if her life wasn't mess enough already, she was in love with the man who had caused the demise of her eleven year marriage, and she was beginning to suspect it was a permanent state of being. She'd tried valiantly over the years to deny her feelings for him, but it was difficult to dismiss someone who knew her better than she knew herself.

Mark. He was always there, providing advice, a sarcastic comment, a shoulder to lean on, or a cleverly disguised innuendo as needed. She'd left him twice but somehow they still found their way back to each other, like oppositely charged magnets, they were pulled together from the most impossible of places, by the most improbable circumstances (like her brother having worms in his brain).

But Mark had Lexie now; he didn't want her as anything more than a friend anymore. They'd wasted their chances, squandered them, both hurt each other too much too many times. Just the other day she'd watched him flirting with Lexie at a nurses station, Mark so caught up that he didn't even notice her waiting to tell him what she'd found out about her son. And it wasn't so long ago that she'd walked into the gallery to observe one of his surgeries only to find Lexie there with her intern friends, going on about how wonderful Mark was, how they talked about everything, how much she supposedly _loved him._

Finally the social services building loomed in front of her, and she climbed the steps slowly, hand trailing gently over the ice cold iron rail. She moved like she was in a dream, gliding in through the doors and up to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked when Addison wasn't forthcoming.

"Yes, I'm trying to find my son," she breathed, wondering if she'd finally get to see him.

"Name?"

"I don't know," she whispered quietly, her voice breaking as she realized the impossibility of her task. He was just one child of millions in the country, one child whose name she did not even know.

"You don't know," the woman repeated disbelievingly. "Well, okay. What's your name?"

"Addison Forbes Montgomery," she answered. The woman began rifling through papers, and she waited on tenterhooks to see what would be found. The seconds stretched on into mini-eternities, stringing her along as she waited to find out what had become of her only child. The woman's hands seemed to be moving in slow motion and her surroundings appeared frozen in place as her heart galloped ever faster.

"Here we go … Addison Montgomery," she said, handing Addison a form, and she stared at the little black letters, standing out against the stark white page, telling the tragic story of her child's life.

_**Parental consent for the release for adoption and/or placement:**_

_**Signature:**__Addison Forbes Montgomery_

Parental consent … what a joke, a sick, messed up, joke. Tears formed in her eyes as she scanned the form, marveling in the unfairness of it all. Still, the information she sought, the name of the child that had gotten lost in a labyrinth of time and fate, was not there.

"I just … I'd like to know his name," she told the woman.

"To even consider releasing information or establishing contact with the child, there is a detailed process that can take up to six months," the woman told her apathetically, shuffling some papers, not even bothering to look at Addison's desperate stance or the water that was dripping from her hair slowly but steadily onto the desk.

"You don't understand! I don't have six months!" she said, the anger coloring her voice earning her many stares from the surrounding office workers. "I just want to know his name. Just his name."

"Ma'am, you gave the child up and your parental rights along with him. Now, I'm afraid you're just going to have to -"

"I DIDN'T GIVE HIM UP!" she screamed, unable to contain the building pain and torture any longer. She was going to _kill _her mother. "I always wanted him! I waited eight years, four months and eleven days to find out he's alive!"

The office was suddenly dead silent, the stillness creeping in from abandoned corners and long buried crimes. Her tears finally spilled over, joining the wetness from her soaking hair and making little _splats _against the floor.

"Ma'am? Excuse me, Ma'am?" Belatedly she noticed someone trying to get her attention, and she turned to find, finally, a sympathetic face. Her embarrassment was being held at bay by pure anxiety and fear but that didn't mean she wasn't aware that she was screaming at people in the middle of a workplace. Addison Forbes Montgomery didn't do that. But Addison Forbes Montgomery had deserted her, leaving a broken human being behind. The truth about her baby was the final straw; she could no longer remember the person she was supposed to be.

"Ms. Montgomery …" the man was saying.

"Doctor," she corrected automatically, finally managing to locate her indifferent exterior, the mask she wore when the pain got to be too much.

"Dr. Montgomery, we are going to do everything we can to help you find your son. I'll see if there's anything I can do the speed the process. However, it can still take a few months and there is a chance that the child may have already been placed with a family."

"Alright. Thank you," she whispered. She had felt close, so close to the thing she craved above all others: motherhood. And now she might never meet her son, just like she'd probably never have a baby, as her barren wasteland of a body had betrayed her.

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The agonized expression on her face knocked the wind out of him the second he first saw her, standing a few feet away looking utterly lost. He was sure that the hospital dramas and medical cases enfolding in front of her were not penetrating her keep reverie. Derek had come to him five days ago, reluctance to discuss his ex-wife with Mark all over his face, and told him that Bizzy had done something, something that turned Addison into a zombie. He'd barely seen Addison since then, and had instead been caught up in the whirlwind of the Meredith/Derek engagement and Lexie's complaints that he was 'distant.'

And now she stood in front of him, her dripping hair and bedraggled appearance so out of character that he felt like an iron fist had caught hold of his heart. Five days without her had been spent drifting along like a ghostly apparition of himself, unable to see the tiny joys life bore without her to point them out.

He had never been like this, before her. Before she turned him into the guy that _cared, _a guy that _loved; _the guy that wanted to be better. Once upon a time he'd been a man who was completely satisfied with the empty one night stands that filled his wilder, younger days. Then Addison turned up, as Derek's girlfriend no less, and although he'd been jealous initially, he'd sucked it up and gotten to know her as a friend.

And to his surprise, she turned out to be the best friend he ever had. He cooked when Derek wasn't around, something that got more and more frequent over the years, and she cleaned his apartment, did his laundry with Derek's, and picked out wall and carpet colors when he was lost. They sunbathed in the Hamptons drinking homemade smoothies while Derek was inside on a call from work, they made tacos to utilize the brownstone's huge kitchen, Mark flipping and chopping and cutting and Addison dipping her fingers in to taste everything. He rubbed her back and told her Derek was an idiot and she teased him about the most audacious of his one night stands and helped him hide when his infidelity caught up to him.

And now her expensive trench coat hung loosely around her shoulders, and her usually-shimmering red tresses waterlogged and limp. She looked like she'd been crying which increased his concern exponentially. Addison was a pro at pretending that everyone was superfluous, that she never needed anyone's help, and many people fell for it. But not him. Never him.

"Addie? You okay?" he asked even thought she was clearly not, and he felt nostalgic for years before when a caramel apple could brighten her entire day.

"No. I'm not okay. I'm not o-fucking-kay," she established, and he was surprised to hear fury lacing her words.

"Wh-" he started, but she didn't allow him to finish.

"He's alive," she moaned, the phrase bursting from agonized lips, and she looked at him as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

"Who? Archer? Adds, Archer is fine, remember? He went back to New York."

"No, not Archer! My son, Mark! My baby that died, he's alive!" In her distress, she didn't register the contradiction made by her last statement, but it didn't matter, Mark got the picture. "Bizzy _gave him up for adoption_," she wailed, her helplessness almost painful, her rage at the sickest, most unfair thing he'd ever heard in his life suddenly understandable. _"Something's wrong with Addison," _Derek had said. But Derek had no idea what he was talking about; that was the understatement of the century.

He wasn't really aware of moving, but in less than a second her skin was on his, her tears and hair soaking his t-shirt. Attraction sparked and peaked as she buried her face in his neck, rendering him breathless. And he felt dizzy as déjà vu overtook him. Last time, she'd told him her son was dead. Now she was telling him that he was alive.

"What happened to him?" he gasped out before he did something really stupid, like kiss her. She needed him now, but if he allowed it to get out of control she would end up regretting it later, and he couldn't stand any more rejection.

"I don't know. It's going to take six months for the papers to go through, if they do at all. And I don't know how to be a mom, Mark. That's why – in New York – it wasn't just you, it was me as well. I don't know how to do this! I'm a mess and I can't cook and I don't belong anywhere!" Her sobbing escalated as panic overtook her.

He pulled back and took her face in his hands, staring at her until she met his eyes. _She just admitted she aborted our baby partially because of her, not all me,_ he thought, unsure how to feel about this newest development.

"You'll find him. I know you, Addison, and I know you'll find him. As for the rest … come with me," he said, tugging on her sleeve as he headed toward the elevator.

"You finally bought an apartment?" she asked incredulously when they arrived as he unlocked the door, revealing an expensive, white washed space that overlooking the busy streets of Seattle.

"Yep," he said, heading toward the fridge. She flitted around, running her hands over his few possessions as he threw ingredients onto the counter.

"What are you doing?" she asked when she finally noticed.

"You are getting out of those wet clothes," he said, grabbing a few articles of his clothing randomly. "And then I'm teaching you to make a pizza."

"Don't look," she warned as the trench coat fell to the floor.

"I won't," he promised, but he did turn once to catch the slightest glimpse of her creamy skin and lacy black underwear, so her beauty could be imprinted in his mind forever.

As they mixed and kneaded and floured and teased, their hands occasionally brushed, causing a combination of love and want so intense it almost made him sick. How did she do it? What made her so undeniably alluring that he could not move on?

Although neither of their sets of parents had exactly been around when they were growing up, long days and nights spent alone had required him to learn how to cook, while Addison's family had hired a cook.

"Okay, you can sprinkle the cheese on," he told her. "Addie, you have to stop eating it. There's not going to be any left."

"God, Mark, stop being such a control freak," she laughed. "I forgot how precise a cook you are," she said, grabbing a handful of excess flour and tossing it in his face. He was quick to retaliate and she looked like a ghost all covered in white. Or maybe an angel, she was too beautiful to resemble any transparent apparition, she was too full of life. Perhaps that life was tainted by despair and long-buried anguish but she radiated it more brightly than anyone she'd ever met. And her mellifluous laugh was quite possibly the most beautiful sound he'd ever her, and he ravished being able to pull that sort of sound from her. The last time he had _belonged _so perfectly escaped him, he felt like he could have spent the rest of his life like that, just him and her messing around in his new kitchen.

They both noticed the sauce-covered spatula at the same time and dived for it. She was closer and managed to snag it and get bright red sauce all over him at the same time. An epic battle ensued, and soon they were covered in more ingredients than the pizza itself. He grabbed her waist as she headed for even more flour, and somehow they ended up a mess of tangled limbs on the kitchen floor, both breathless with laughter.

"We might want to actually put this in the oven," he said, finally standing and pulling her up with him.

"Wow, look at your kitchen," she laughed. It looked like it had somehow snowed in his new apartment, flour coating the already white surfaces, only broken by crimson sauce. "I really learned a lot about cooking, Mark," she joked. "Eww, what are you doing I don't want olives on it!"

"That can be my half, then," he said, trying to keep her from picking all the olives off their pizza. "Mushrooms?" he asked incredulously when she began to decorate her half.

"Mushrooms win over olives," she ascertained, sticking out her tongue.

"They do not," he protested, ravishing his ability to bring out this side in her.

"They do too," she said with finality, adding peppers and Canadian bacon, the two toppings they could both agree upon.

To his surprise, she finished an entire half of the pizza before he did, although that could have been because he was trying to ignore how wrong it was. He had a girlfriend out there somewhere, and he had not thought of her in hours. Addison's personality was strangely irresistible; she attracted people to her like a sun with her own solar system. Few could resist her, and he was certainly not one of them. They crashed on the couch, exhausted by their little battle, and he would have slept except for the burning sensation emanating from their touching skin. Still, he did allow his eyes to close, wondering what could have been … What could have been.

He opened his eyes to find himself bathed in sunlight, screams and shrieks filling the warm summer air. A majestic house loomed before him, all white pillars and elegant construction, rising out of a sea of perfectly groomed green grass. And on the grass, four children chased each other, their scarlet hair shining in the sun.

"Daddy!" they all yelled when he stepped out onto the porch, little hands tugging at his dirty t-shirt. To his surprise, Sage was among them, and he barely had time to register the oh-so-familiar color of their hair when he felt tingles all over his skin when _she _placed her arm in his.

"Alright, alright, lay off your dad now," Addison laughed, picking up the smallest of their children and tucking the gorgeous child against her hip. They all gazed up at him with adoring eyes, and he marveled at the perfect combination. It made sense, of course, that they had four kids, and what looked like another on the way. Why waste the undeniably amazing genes?

His youngest daughter, wrapped tight in Addison's arms, began to struggle, reaching for the butterfly flying past. "Careful, honey. Careful of the baby," Addison admonished gently, and he took in the slight curve of her stomach wonderingly. _His child was growing in there. _

But like everything good in his life, he was soon robbed of it. He had long suspected that his touch was somehow destructive. And as the dregs of sleep faded away and harsh reality cut once again into his chest, he wondered. He wondered why everyone thought he was the exact opposite of Derek, why Derek was supposed to be the one wanting the house and the kids and the white picket fence, while he was supposed to be wanting the easiest lay he could find. If he had been picked as the screw up, and Derek as Prince Charming, why was he the one dreaming about a fairytale life with the woman he loved?

What they could have had … if only they'd both tried harder, if only they had been able to become more than two broken people pretending to be okay. Still hungover on the empty promises his dream had made, the life that was now beyond his reach, he didn't hear the door open. He didn't look up from Addison's sleeping form, her face angelic in sleep. He didn't, or couldn't, see anything other than the fluttering of her eyelids, and he wondered if she was dreaming about him too.

So he was shocked to look up and find Lexie, standing the doorway staring at him. "What the _hell _are you doing, Mark?!" she screeched, taking in the proximity of Mark and Addison's bodies on the couch, and he found that he had no answer because he wasn't sure himself.

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"Outside or inside?" he breathed into her hair, reveling in the feeling of the silky strands against his face.

"What?" Meredith murmured, a medical journal open on her lap. She was looking at it, but her eyes had been glued to the same paragraph ever since he sat down next to her.

"The wedding, silly! Outside or inside?" he laughed, abandoning his attack on her ear and neck and pulling her back against him instead.

"Hmm … outside," she said after mulling it over for a moment. He couldn't help the slight accidental twist of his expression, and of course she caught it. "You and Addison had an outside wedding, didn't you?" she asked, and he marveled at her astute conclusion, born from a mere facial expression.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Is that a problem? Do you want this wedding to be the opposite of that one or something?" she asked. It was not anger dominating her features … more calculation and curiosity, and he couldn't help suspecting that she was testing him somehow.

"No," he said finally. He should have predicted this; nothing was ever easy between them. How did the saying go? Anything worth doing is never easy. Though they were on their way to a blissful happily ever after, the road was not smooth. There were bumps in the pavement and potholes to be circumnavigated. _Baby steps, _he reminded himself.

"No, it's not that at all," he assured her. "I want our wedding to be the best day of your life, and of mine. Yeah, it's a little weird for me because I've been married before, but we can get through that. We've gotten through everything else," he said, kissing her nose.

"Right. So, outside. There's this one place me and Cristina talked about when she was planning her wedding. It's this beautiful little park, but she didn't want to tempt fate during spring, but if we get married during the summer, we might be able to avoid getting wet." Excitement lit up her eyes, chasing away ghosts of doubt. Once upon a time she'd been afraid of this, scared of the commitment that would nail her down, but now she seemed eager for it, almost as much as he was. He was a marrying guy, maybe deep down she was a marrying girl as well.

"Summer, hmmm … we could have it in July," he mused.

"That's in four months," she said slowly.

"Too soon?" he asked.

"No, but how about August? That's when we're most likely to have the best weather," she suggested. "I think … I hope with Izzie's help I'll be able to pull a wedding together by then."

"Don't worry, my mom and sisters will definitely help, whether you want them to or not. Plus Callie, Addison and Miranda have been married. I'm sure they can help if you need it."

"Callie got married in Vegas, Addison was married to _you, _and I'm not altogether positive that the 'Nazi' really wants to help with our wedding," she laughed.

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "Now, what about our house?"

"Our house," she repeated. He was worried for a second, until she continued, "What, the candle house wasn't good enough for you?"

"It was beautiful, but I think our children would prefer a roof over their heads," he said, kissing her softly.

"Der, we're supposed to be planning the wedding!" she protested as he leaned closer, knocking a stack of papers to the floor.

"Mmmm … we can do that later. I've got some other activities in mind," he said with a grin, pushing her back against the couch and covering her lips with his. Her weak protests were soon muted and then faded completely as she threaded her fingers through his mess of curls, both perfectly content with their present and eager for their future.

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**So, what did you think? I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible but reviews will help me get it out even faster ... :D**

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	8. This Time

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**8. _This Time_**

**The song This Time is from the actual movie August Rush. That's all I have to say today :D**

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_Nine Years Ago: The Break of Dawn_

_The smell of salty sea air was swept around her by a slight breeze, teasing her golden ringlets and making her huddle closer to the warm body wrapped around her …_

_Wait …_

_Who was that? Addison sat up quickly, strange details of her dream intermixed with real life. Until she realized her dream _was _real life, and the man sleeping beside her, tan skin as naked as hers, was real too. His back was to her, muscles visible under a thin blanket, body a beacon of warmth in the morning chill, but Addison pulled away._

_She dressed quickly in the dim light, the only sound the crash of the ocean against the rocks. Internally, she was cursing herself. This wasn't something she did. One night stands with random strangers were not her thing. Naomi was probably looking for her, and her parents would kill her …_

_Sighing, she swung her legs over the edge of the roof, dangling feet hitting the ladder below. One glance, that was all she permitted herself of her lover. It was tempting to go back and see his face, to find out if it held a clue of what had inspired such rash actions on her part. But she didn't, because this episode was better left in the past. Curiosity waged a war with propriety, but the crystal clear dawn brought clarity._

_Morning chased away the magic of night._

_Shivering, she eased herself down the ladder, dress catching on something and ripping. She was worried the sound would wake him, and part of her hoped that it would, because she was not brave enough to do it herself. But he was a heavy sleeper, apparently, and she stored that fact away as a lone memory of the night before; she could not even picture his face. As she climbed down the ladder furtively and hurried through the streets of Greece, she discovered she did have one more remembrance of the night: the cold crystal key thumping against her heart as she ran. _

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He had been so caught up in the sight of her eyelashes against her pale, flour covered face that he hadn't been aware that other people existed in the world. The exact design of her cheekbones had been copied into the faces of the children in his dream, and probably into her lost son, wherever he was. The myriad details that made up Addison ensnared him, until she was the only thing in the world that was real, the rest a translucent dream.

"WHAT THE _HELL _ARE YOU DOING, MARK?!" But his girlfriend's yell woke him up, forced him back into a world devoid of fairytales. At least where he was concerned.

Mark stood slowly, letting Addison's legs fall gently onto the floor. Despite Lexie's yelling, she slept on. Worry passed over him, but he put it away for later: she was probably just tired after pouring all her energy into finding her child.

"What are you talkin' about, Lexie?" he asked, brushing flour off the beige floor and onto the pale hardwood, looking anywhere except Addison's still-sleeping face.

"Are you sleeping with her? Because this is the second time I've found her in your clothes," Lexie said, sounding almost in tears. He felt bad, but it wasn't fair for her to jump to conclusions like that. They had all their clothes on, after all.

"No, of course I -"

"Because I'm not stupid, Mark. I know about your reputation," Lexie interrupted. "I know about all the nurses you slept with, everyone knows. I haven't said anything, but …"

Air whooshed out of him slowly, as if someone had punched him in the gut. He felt that was a low blow. Had he brought up her past? No, hell, he didn't know much about her past besides that she was Meredith's sister and her father was an alcoholic. "Lex, we didn't even know each other then," he pointed out.

"The nurses formed a pact against you for sleeping with all of them. You slept with your best friend's wife!"

Addison finally stirred, yawning and stretching and sitting up. She'd clearly caught Lexie's last comment, but Lexie didn't seem to care … which meant that Lexie didn't know who Addison was, didn't know that she had been married to Derek.

"I'm not seeing your point, Little Grey."

"My point is that when I find you sleeping with some woman on your couch in your clothes, I have the right to be suspicious," Lexie snapped.

"I've been friends with Addison for years!" he protested, knowing he could use her ignorance of Addison's identity against her. No reason for her to know that the woman she was so upset about was the same woman he had ended his best friend's eleven year marriage for.

"Me and Mark were friends when you were still playing in a sandbox in second grade," Addison pointed out in the tone that had earned her the nickname 'Satan.' She stood, wobbling slightly, and Lexie took a step back. Sure, Addison was a mess as a result of their food fight, but someone she made even pizza ingredients look classy. She looked between him and Lexie, and he was willing to bet the gears in her mind were whirling. For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of jealously in her features, a hint of hurt, but when she started toward the door, expression neutral, he was convinced he'd imagined it.

"I'll see you later, Mark," she said, diplomatically leaving them to their fight, but he couldn't help watching her until the last bit of red had disappeared out the door. He could never hold her, never get a good grip, she flitted between cities, never truly here or there. He wanted to run out the door after her, but the last few times he had run after her, it hadn't turned out so well. So he turned back to face Lexie and his new life, trying to not to mourn the old.

"What happened between you two?" Lexie asked, and Mark sighed. She clearly wasn't stupid, perhaps she had caught a whiff of his and Addison's tangled history. "I mean, she shows up with her dying brother, and suddenly you won't tell Derek we're seeing each other, and I don't see you for the next few days. Then all of the sudden you show up, saying that you love me and want to get back together, while going out of your way to avoid her. Now you're best friends again. You fill out post-op notes together, compare cases, each lunch in the room of some kid together, all the things you used to do with me. Obviously, you have a history. What is it?"

"If you care about me, if you love me, you will _never _ask me that question again," pain leaking out as harshness in his voice. He wasn't strong enough to reiterate the hurt that had been passed back and forth between him and Addison, partially because some wounds were still new and oozing.

"Fine, how about this one: Do you love her?" Lexie's voice, normally sweet as honey, carried a hint of something darker; poison, like the question was designed to hurt and entrap him.

"I don't _love her_!" he yelled. No, he didn't love her. He just missed her whenever she wasn't around. His heart was just crushed every time she left. He just thought about her all the time. He just dreamt about them living happily ever after with a house full of kids.

But no, he certainly didn't love her.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She tried to avoid it, deny it, run away from it, but Lexie's accusation seemed to have grown claws, the mere thought of being the other woman digging deep into her being, like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Yes, she was in love with Mark, but she was too late in coming to that realization, meaning that she'd lost him to Lexie forever. It wasn't wrong to hang out with him, right, when he didn't feel the same way? They could just be friends. Friends that understood each other completely, friends that could talk about anything and everything but didn't have to, because they could communicate without words, friends that fantasized about running their fingers through each other's hair …

"Dammit!" Addison swore as the light turned red. She stomped on the brake, causing the car to lurch to a stop, and allowed herself to slump against the steering wheel.

Maybe Mark could have been the barbequing guy, or the guy that played catch with his kids. Maybe _she _was the one who hadn't been able to see him doing that. He could have changed; maybe, she just hadn't given him the chance to. And now the opportunity had been lost in time's endless stream, never to be found again …

Finally she reached her destination, and she welcomed the distraction of the still-pouring rain as she hurried up to the door of Callie and Cristina's apartment. "Coming!" came the yell when she knocked, but it didn't sound like Callie. "Oh, uh, Dr. Montgomery," Cristina said, still in her pajamas and looking surprised to see her there.

"Is Callie there?" was the only thing she could say.

Cristina, of course, being Cristina, didn't think to invite her inside out of the rain, but rather disappeared in search of Callie, who appeared a second later, hair tousled from sleep.

"Itz reaaally early, Addison," she yawned.

"Callie, I need your help," she said in a shaking voice. Images of a baby, handed from person to person, crying without her there … the tears in her eyes overflowed again. "H-he's alive and I need your help!"

"Can you keep it down out there?" Cristina yelled.

"She's upset about the thing with Hunt," Callie said, jerking her head in the direction of what she assumed was Cristina's door. "And I'm sorry, but have no idea what you're talking about. Who's alive?"

"I've always felt that he was alive. I'd see kids his age and I'd – I'd imagine what he would look like. Bright twinkling eyes like his dad, and – I used to lie in bed at night and I swear … I could hear him!"

"Addison, what are you talking about?" Callie asked gently.

Addison stared at Callie for a minute, wondering at her non-reaction to such news, but then she remembered that there were parts of the convoluted web of her past that people in Seattle didn't know after all. "My son," she answered softly.

"Dios mío, Addison! Tú tiene un niño? ¿Desde cuándo? No lo puedo creer!" Callie exclaimed, her Spanish flowing together in her surprise.

Addison wiped her eyes, searching inside to find the ice-cold alter that got her through the toughest of times. "My mother _gave him up for adoption, _Callie. I got pregnant near the end of med school, and she was afraid he was going to ruin my career. I was in a car crash, when I was almost nine months pregnant … and she told me he _died_," she sobbed, finally breaking down into Callie's arms.

"Hey, it's okay," Callie soothed, rubbing her back. "So he's alive? He didn't die? You have a kid out there somewhere? Calm down," she said as Addison sobs escalated.

"Calm down?" Addison laughed hysterically. "How can I be calm? I've been calm for over _eight years_! And look where it's gotten me!"

"Addie, you're losing it," Callie said matter-a-factly. "Let's not do anything crazy. We're going to figure this out." She pushed Addison into the apartment and into a chair, but she only got a blurred view of the comfortable apartment through a waterfall of tears. Callie busied herself in the kitchen, eventually handing Addison a cup of hot chocolate.

"Okay, so … wait. Oh my God – the stillborn! The first case we had together, remember? That's why you were so upset," Callie said wonderingly.

"Yeah," Addison admitted. "It's why I went into neonatal, actually. To save babies so other families wouldn't have to hurt everyday like I did."

"This sucks, what happened really sucks, but we're going to find him, okay? I promise we'll find him," Callie said, and Addison managed a wan smile.

"A guy from social services gave me an address to a boy's home just out of Seattle," Addison said, holding out the crumpled piece of paper. "We could start there; find out if they have any kids with the surname Montgomery who happen to be eight years old, in case they gave him my last name."

The car ride flew by, the rising sun casting a pattern of shadows across their faces. Callie was calm, chatting about Arizona, and Addison tried valiantly to pay attention and conceal her desperation at the same time. Was her son there, waiting for her, at the end of this sun-streaked road? Would she finally see him, watch him run into her arms, and never let him go again?

The decrepit buildings were absolutely littered with kids, running, playing, screaming, surrounding the car. Addison waded through the mess, lifting a toddler as she and Callie stood by the fence. Her son could not have grown up here, she would not accept it. Still, there was something familiar … the tall grass field stretching on … Sage had spoken of grass just like that, in one of his reminiscences of the place he had grown up.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A harried man ran up to them, and Addison recognized him from social services. He, apparently, remembered her too, probably because she'd had a total breakdown in the middle of the office. "Hello, Dr. Montgomery."

"Hi," she said, shifting the child she held to shake hands with him. "This is my friend, Dr. Callie Torres," she said when Callie cleared her throat.

"It's nice to meet you," he said politely. "But I'm afraid I have bad news. There is one child with the name James Montgomery, but he's only two. Your son could have been here and been adopted, we just don't know. I'm so sorry," he said.

"That's okay," she said. "Thanks for trying." The kid in her arms squirmed, showing her eight tiny teeth, and she ran a hand over his silky mess of auburn curls.

"William seems to like you," he commented.

"Yeah …" she muttered. What had her son looked like, when he was this age? Would he have clutched her shirt, unwilling to relinquish his hold, like little William was right now? Had he grown up in this very grass, crawling and walking and running, searching for the mother who was never there? Did he wonder, even now, why she had abandoned him?

"I missed so much," she admitted to Callie when they were back in the car. "There's no way to get back all the years I missed. But he spent his entire childhood in there, or somewhere like it, and I swear that once I'll find him, he'll never go back."

Callie nodded. "I still can't believe you have a kid out there somewhere."

"He's lost, Cal! I lost him, lost him in life's insane game, and what if I never find him?"

"You need to have a little faith, Addie. I can't wait to meet this kid!"

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"So," she said to fill the silence in the car that had descended between her and Derek. The wrinkle in his forehead meant that he was thinking intensely about something. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I … I don't know," Derek whispered. "I, um, did you hear anything?"

"Hear anything about what?"

"Addison's son is alive," he admitted. "Apparently her mother gave him up for adoption, and Mark says she's going insane trying to find him."

"Wow," she said, maneuvering her car through the busy streets. "That's awful. Is she okay?"

"I don't know …" he trailed off, staring out the window.

"Derek, please just tell me," she begged.

"Well, like I said, Addison was pregnant when I met her, and she was reluctant to date me because of it. But after dating for a while, I was sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her … so I told her that when the kid was born and when we were married, I would legally adopt him. And then he died, and we were both devastated … I guess what I'm saying is … although that's Addie's kid, wherever he is, he's a little bit mine too."

Derek … Addison … Addison's son … It all swirled round and round in her head, like the people around their car in the streets of Seattle. And she found that while it may have bugged her before, she felt secure in the fact that Derek loved her and only her now. They belonged to each other, like perfectly matched puzzle pieces. "I don't mind, Derek," she said, smiling at his anxious expression. "In fact, when Addison finds him, I think we should offer to help her out, since it doesn't seem like the father is in the picture."

"She doesn't know who the father is," Derek said to her surprise. "But I think that's a good idea. Good practice for when we have a family."

"Right," she said, turning into their destination. Family, marriage, kids, it was all new to her, still bright and shiny and just out of her reach, even though it loomed closer with every passing day.

She and Derek stepped out into the rain, her triumphant, him confused, at least until he saw the rolling hills iced with rain droplets and the mist covered garden, arch looming out of the rain.

"This is it," he said, "isn't it?"

"This is it," she confirmed. This was where they'd become man and wife, where their happily ever after, started in a random bar on a rainy evening, would officially take flight.

"I'm thinking August 2nd," Derek said, picking up a brochure with instructions on how to rent the park for a day.

"I'm thinking that's perfect."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

His legs dangled off the edge of the bed, the wide open hospital beckoning to him, whispering that his parents were here, were waiting; all he had to do was stand. Finally, he was allowed to leave the bed and the room that was like a prison to an active eight year old. The injuries he had sustained so far in his desperate search inhibited him no longer … but for some reason, he didn't want to leave. Still, although his sense led on, he couldn't tell if it led out of the hospital or not.

To find out, he'd have to get up. Sage inched toward the bed's edge, eyeing his street clothes on the other side of the room. But before he could move further, the door slid open and the feeling suddenly vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Hey, Sage," Addie said, with the special smile she seemed to reserve just for him.

"Guess what? I can get out of bed now! Which means I can play soccer soon, maybe!"

"Really?" she asked. "We should celebrate then, huh? How about going to get some ice cream?"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. She had been strangely absent for the past few days, and although he knew her job was of paramount importance, and that dying people had to take precedence over him, he had missed her. Plus, maybe they would see Dr. Mark too, and he could ask him about playing soccer.

"Whoa, slow down there, tiger. Here, let me help you," she said, lifting him gently into the wheelchair as he tried to get up.

"Hey, Sage, have you seen … hey, Addie." Dr. Mark appeared in the doorway, just like he had been secretly wishing, but all thoughts of ice cream seemed to have left Addison's head at the sight of him.

"Hey, Mark," she responded hesitantly.

"Sorry about the other day," he said. Their eyes met above him, ice blue connecting with sea green, and he frowned, unable to guess at what was passing between them. Somehow they were talking without voicing their thoughts aloud, conveying a thousand thoughts and emotions; words could not compare. It made him wonder what exactly had happened between them in the past.

"We were going to get ice cream," Addie finally said out loud. "Want to come?"

"Sure," Mark responded, falling in beside them. "But I have to operate on a kid with a cleft lip and palate at three. And people say plastics is all superficial. I don't see them curing kids with birth defects," Mark sighed with fake sorrow.

"Whatever," Addison rolled her eyes. "They're probably right, considering most of your surgeries are breast implants," she teased.

"What's that?" Sage asked.

"Nice," Mark said bitingly, while Addison looked guilty. "Way to corrupt the kid's mind."

"What is it?" Sage repeated with a smile. It was funny to see them battle back and forth, and he had never felt so accepted or loved in his life. They watched out for him, caring like no one else had before. They worried about what he heard them talking about, unlike the other boys of the orphanage, who discussed grown-up things like sex with impunity. But he'd never heard of breast implants.

"Nothing, honey," Addie said. "What kind of ice cream do you want?"

"Sherbert!" he said after a minute of taking in all the bright ice cream colors.

"Nice choice," Mark said, holding out his fist for Sage to tap. "I'll have the same."

"You two are crazy," Addison said. "I'll have the chocolate peanut butter swirl."

"Sherbert is better," Mark said, poking her arm. "Just like olives are better." She only rolled her eyes in response.

"Aw, you two have such a cute son! What happened to you, did you break your arm?" the woman in behind them in line asked.

"He, uh," Mark stuttered.

"He's not our son, he's just a patient," Addie admitted, although the words fell from her tongue reluctantly, like they were difficult for her to say.

"Oh," said the woman, surprised. "I'm sorry. Feel better," she said to him, still surveying Addison and Mark like they were concealing an undeniable truth.

"What do you fools think you're doin'" another voice called just as Sage received his ice cream. He looked around to find Dr. Bailey, Dr. Arizona and Dr. Meredith approaching. "This boy needs a CT. You two are his doctors, not his parents. You wanna buy a kid ice cream? Tuck is in the nursery and I'm sure he'd love some. But right now, Sage needs a CT. Addison, I expected better of you. And Mark Sloan, what are you doing corrupting some little kid with your dirty mind?"

Addison and Mark were both speechless as Dr. Bailey bore down on them, and Sage giggled.

"Addisonwastheonewhotoldhimaboutbreastimplants," Mark muttered.

"What was that, McSteamy?" Dr. Bailey demanded.

"Nothing," Mark said.

"Look, I get it," Dr. Arizona said. "You two care about this kid, that much is clear. Sometimes there are just patients like that. But you have to let us make the medical decisions, you have to let us do our job. Because one of you is a Plastic surgeon, and the other is a neonatal surgeon who doesn't even currently work here."

One of each of their hands rested on the handles of his wheelchair, and he wished he could have told the woman standing behind them that she was right, and that Addison and Mark were his parents. He wished that he belonged to them, so Dr. Arizona and Dr. Bailey didn't have to take him away to the scary machines. He wished that his quest was over, so he wouldn't have to go back to the orphanage or leave the two doctors he'd grown to love.

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**So ... Addison is getting closer to finding her son! Things are going to get pretty intense pretty soon ... Anyway I hope you liked it! Leave me a little review and let me know what you thought?**

**:D**

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	9. Light Up The Sky

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**9. _Light Up The Sky_**

**Light Up the Sky is by Yellowcard … and here's the next chapter:**

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_Eight Years Ago: The Wayward Prince_

_They who were once best friends rubbed together like sandpaper now, rough against smooth. Derek, he had it all. Mark … he was falling._

_New York glowed like a freaking solar system, alive with pinpricks of light, and yet Mark felt like his light has been snuffed out. He had lost track of how many months it had been since his heart was gutted, the passing of his days were measures by how hungover he was every morning._

"_Dude, what the hell is up with you?" Derek asked him as the rest of the tequila slid down his throat, burning but setting his nerves on fire, allowing the warmth that exploded in his belly to unfreeze him for the briefest second._

"_What are you talking about?" His retort was a whisper, because barely visible under heaps of blankets on the couch, was Addison. She had faded until he was sure that if Derek wasn't careful, a gust of wind would blow her away._

"_I mean, what the hell happened? Something happened to you, because you were never like this before. You're turning into your father." Derek looked like he regretted the words the moment they slipped out, but they had fallen from his tongue too easily, like thoughts brewed into words by carelessness._

"_I am not my father!" He yelled, because Derek knew better. Mrs. Shepherd never knew exactly what went on in his house, but she guessed enough, enough to make him their charity case. The Shepherd girls never minded, but Derek always looked down on Mark slightly, as if his ledge was a slight bit higher than Mark's, because he was loved and Mark was not._

"_If you must know, I … met someone. She, well, I guess I loved her," he said, running a hand through the cropped hair he'd cut off the day after she left, on the off chance that if he looked like someone else, he would feel like someone else also._

"_How long did you know her?" Derek asked, the surprise in his voice resulting in a bitter taste in Mark's mouth._

"_A night. Shut the fuck up!" he yelled as Derek snorted. "She was the one, Derek, she was the freaking one. Just for one night, she saw _me. _Not the manwhore screw-up everyone else sees, but the real me!"_

_Derek was at a loss for words, but Mark had lost interest, because his words weren't completely true. There was one more person who saw him, who called him on his crap because she cared: Addison. But Addison belonged to Derek. He couldn't touch her, even if she wasn't. His touch wrought pain and devestation._

_Suddenly Derek spoke again, using the same tone he did with his three-year-old nephew. "Do you remember what my dad said about princesses, when he used to tell stories? They're always looking for their prince. And you aren't anybody's prince, Mark."_

"_How would you know?" What the hell did Derek Shepherd know anyway? On the outside, they were polar opposites. Derek, King Arthur, noble yet arrogant, while he played Lancelot, handsome but corrupt. If only he'd known then how apt that description was, how Guinevere lay mere feet from them, slumbering peacefully._

"_So you think you're just going to waltz in a sweep her off her feet," Derek stated, sarcasm revealing how ludicrous he found the idea._

"_No, I … I don't know her name. But she's out there, Derek, and I'm going to find her."_

_But he never did find her, because Derek already had. And he lived in ignorance for eleven years, and when the eleventh year broke, he wasn't completely accountable for his actions. He'd warned Derek. He told her he was going to find her and sweep her off her feet, and he did, rescuing her from a broken marriage. Fate laughed, guffaws shaking the delicate strands of destiny, because Mark had no idea that he fulfilled his promise after all._

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Rain had never exactly been a welcome omen in her life. It tended to indicate misery and more on the way. Today was no exception.

From Sage's window, she could see the delicate trails running down the glass, like the earth itself was mourning. Did the earth mourn? Maybe she did, because her shining lover the moon was forever out of reach … just like Mark …

Sage's eyes were closed; he slumbered peacefully against her shoulder, spring green eyes obscured by lids. In his hands rested the book she'd given him – Harry Potter – because he so clearly desired to be anywhere but tied to his hospital bed.

"Guess they forgot about my letter," he joked when he first began the story, and then explained it further when she admitted she'd never read it. His inherent kindness shown through in everything he did, like a star trapped on earth … and he would be gone in five short days. Back to the orphanage he hated and the place he didn't belong.

There was no law that said _she _couldn't adopt him, except for the fact that caring for Sage made her feel like she was abandoning her own son to the whims of Fate. He and Sage were brothers through space, and she had exhausted every method of finding him, there was nothing to do but wait and see if the papers went through.

Addison stood slowly, tugging down her skirt and replacing Sage's head on the pillow. Somewhere along the way, she felt like God had deserted her also. She was back in the city she never intended to return to, loving the man she had sworn she'd never to love, wishing for the boy that was not her own, and desperate for the son who could not be found.

Mark's body put those of the Greek gods to shame, even in concealing scrubs. But more than that, her salvation existed in his words; her sun was found in his face. But she could only watch from afar as he approached Lexie, arms curling around her waist and fitting his lips to hers. The kiss was short, brief, simple, but it was followed by another … and another, and she fled because there was only so much her ruined, wrung heart could take.

There were babies to save, mothers to reassure, lives to start as she pulled new beginnings from bloody wombs, but Addison found herself unable to return to her work. Richard was acting like a delighted child, calling all favors to get rarest and most interesting cases transferred to Seattle in the hopes that she would stay … but he didn't know it was for naught, she wasn't leaving until she found her son.

Her walls crashed down, her city burned, and the mess inside of her contrasted deeply with the uniform perfection of Seattle Grace's whitewashed bathrooms. A tear hit the floor, and several seconds passed before she realized it was her own. And more followed like a river, flowing out until they formed a never ending ocean in the grooves of the bathroom tiles …

"Addison?"

The voice was familiar but not immediately recognizable, and Addison froze. When her ice queen mask slipped and revealed the mess inside, well, it wasn't a pretty sight. Only one person had seen her like that and not run. She had been curled up around the brownstone's bottom banister, in utter ruins after her husband physically left (emotionally, he'd been gone a while) and the third thing Mark said, after, _"I'm sorry"_ and _"Derek's an ass"_, was _"God, you're beautiful."_

But it was not Mark this time; it was not his job to catch her when she fell anymore, nor to chase away the skeletons when they came out of the closet. It could have been worse, she supposed, at least she had seen this before, when she opened a supply closet door a few years ago …

"Addison?"

"Meredith."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

_White or pink?_ Meredith had been thinking when she entered the bathroom to the sound of someone sobbing. Izzie was insisting that she pick out flower colors for the wedding, and although she didn't really care, Derek seemed so excited about the whole thing that she was being forced to feign interest.

It wasn't that she didn't want to get married, it was that she was looking forward to the happily ever after, the lifetime, not some silly ceremony where Derek got to be cheesy and Cristina was licensed to make fun of her.

"Addison?" she called, automatically uttering out the name of the only person she knew able to afford such fabulous footwear, as was visible under the last stall. There was no answer, so she called again. "Addison?"

The door swung open to reveal the redhead slumped against the wall, and she remembered what Derek had said about her son. Ellis had been a terrible mother, but she had not, to Meredith's knowledge, given away any of her children (not that she had been given the opportunity.) Something in Addison's grief struck her deep, because she was always so strong, like an unbendable statue constantly being buffered by the ocean.

She felt like she was looking into a mirror the night after Derek left. How ironic was it that she was now helping the cause of all that pain? Addison's sanity seemed perched at the top of a very slippery slope, because there was only so much a person could handle. She knew from experience, and she could recognize symptoms of being internally shattered.

"Meredith," Addison said dully, looking up at her through agony filled eyes.

Emotions were _so _not her thing, and in the absence of any comfort to offer, she blurted, "White or pink?"

"White," Addison answered after a minute. "No offense, Grey, but you're not a pink person."

"True," she admitted, extending a hand like a lifeline. Addison stared at it for a second, as if unsure what to do, and then pulled herself up, tottering slightly like she was drunk or dizzy.

"Besides, Derek hates pink. In fact, he bought all his nieces green or yellow onesies when they were born. Not a single hint of pink," Addison continued as she wiped her eyes, but Meredith was hardly paying attention. Instead, she studied the other woman closely. She had been married, to Derek no less, and she could maybe offer something other that Izzie's insuppressible enthusiasm and Cristina's constant eye rolls …

"I was just heading down the cafeteria …" she said hesitantly.

Addison narrowed her eyes. "You want me to help you plan your wedding to my ex-husband?"

"Sorry, I just …"

Addison shrugged. "I got nothing better to do. Besides, I'm starving."

Half an hour later, after she had consumed two salads, three pieces of pizza, a taco, and jello with whip cream, the two were bent over bridal magazines and Meredith realized that, with her guard down, Addison was actually fun to hang out with.

Addison was licking the whip cream off her jello. She had, if it was possible, eaten even more than Meredith, her excuse being that depression made her hungry. She explained why Derek's great Aunt Teresa could not sit by Nancy (a family feud would break out) and that it didn't really matter what food she ordered, because chances were she and Derek wouldn't get any anyways. Along the way, Meredith absorbed details of her problems by osmosis. Addison couldn't find her son, something had happened with her and Mark, and she missed the bustle of the hospital when in LA.

Derek found them there, his handsomely carved features betraying his shock, and a little sigh went through her as she saw him. His touches had a habit of lingering even when they had long been over, his love could chase away the darkest storm clouds, and his presence cast the world in light.

"Seriously?" he asked, chuckling as he beheld is ex and future wife collaborating on his wedding.

"You better watch out," she teased. "We're friends now. I know all your dirty secrets. Like that you once did a live performance of the song 'It's a Hard Enough Life' when you failed a test in med school and got drunk."

"I did not!" he protested, panic evident in his voice.

"He so did, ask M-Mark," Addison said, stuttering over Mark's name.

"Wow, did you two seriously eat all this?" Derek asked, ignoring the last comment.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Derek Shepherd," Meredith said with a grin.

"Veeery careful," Addison agreed.

It was nice to be the bright and shiny one for once.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He watched, arms up, scalpel in hand, as the beeping blended into one never-ending tone. He had failed. This boy, his patient, was dead. Sure, the surgery was a shot in the dark, but then again, what in his life wasn't?

This boy had had a future, and now it was gone, lost, taken away by death never to be regained … but at least this boy had been alive, once, had lived. What if _his_ child had lived, if Addison hadn't aborted him? The ten short years this boy had spent on the earth were a hell of a lot better than nothing.

"Mark!" Lexie cried as he stalked away from the operating table abruptly, leaving the nurses to cover the small body. "It wasn't your fault, Mark, it was …"

"I can't do this now," he snapped, turning on her. He couldn't breathe, his oxygen was in this hospital somewhere, but he was supposed to be thinking of his girlfriend …

"Mark!" she called again, but he left.

There was nowhere in his wretched dystopia to go, no safe place to hide. He passed Meredith and Derek, arguing over wedding details, Cristina and Owen, pretending to avoid each other, Arizona and Callie, so caught up that they didn't see him as he walked by …

There was nothingness, closing in, and then … she was just there, sitting in the dark lounge, an angel stuck on earth, and he was finally able to break down.

"Mark?" Her voice was soft, and he could hear the tears in her voice as her hair brushed up against his arm … and then her soft hands were there, pulling his nails from his palms, uncrossing his arms, pushing him into a chair.

He did not mention the patient, because he didn't really need to. She could read him. Instead they sat side by side, pondering their broken states, and wondering what could have been, and filling up the empty darkness with words that bespoke feelings long buried, that were so pregnant with hidden emotion that it spilled out, a hundred elephants marching throughout the room …

"Sometimes," she said, "I wish things had gone differently."

"Sometimes I wish you wouldn't have left," was his only reply.

"I was messed up. I had to fix myself."

"Did it work?"

"No, not really. In fact, I lost what I was left: the surgeon part, my purpose. Now I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"We could not know what the fuck we're doing together."

"I'm staying until I find my son."

"I'm gonna help you find him. But after that I think you should stay forever."

"I have a life in LA."

"You could have a life here."

"I'm damaged."

"So am I. I'm like fucking Humpty Dumpty. I'll put you back together if you put me back."

"Deal," she said, and suddenly he felt her beside him, her chin resting on his shoulder, sweet-smelling hair pouring onto his chest. "You're the best friend I ever had." Her wormed their way into his heart, but try as he might he couldn't make it enough. She sat on an unattainable pedestal, unreachable by any mortal man. Those who tried to reach her failed, fell, unable to reach the summit: him, Derek, Karev, all the boys she'd dated in college before he met her. The only one able to make it was a boy younger than the one who he'd operated on, whose smaller limbs could maybe fit in the footholds, maybe her son could melt Addison enough to get inside.

But what Mark didn't know was how close he truly was, that he could have reached the top, if only he didn't stray to his old manwhoring ways when her husband left, or if he had told her the truth while they sat there in the dark hospital …

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**Thanks for all the reviews, they are seriously wonderful. This definitely wasn't my favorite chapter ever, and I had trouble writing it because nothing really happens. However, things really come to a head in the next one (no way will Addison let Sage be taken back to that orphanage), and I can be persuaded to get it out faster …**

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	10. I Knew I Loved You

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**10. _I Knew I Loved You_**

**The chapter title, I Knew I Loved You (yes, corny song choice, I know, but you'll see why … besides, this use of it is much better than the dumb music video.) comes from the song by Savage Garden. Also, thank you so so much for the reviews! Keep it up :D**

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_Nine Years Ago: Once upon a moonlit night_

_He was vaguely aware of the alcohol clouding his brain, making the world spin and shapes twist and turn, but he was still aware of her, standing there, beautiful before him. Mark wanted a way to preserve these memories because he sensed that, by the morning, they'd be gone, a hangover in their place. Faraway the ocean kissed the earth, pulled back, and reached forward again desperate for its unattainable lover, causing the crash of water on rocks, but it all seemed very outlying and unimportant._

_Moonlight reflected off her flawless bare skin as exposed by the low cut of her dress as they spun to the distant music of the party they'd vacated long ago. Mark wasn't sure whose roof they danced on, nor hardly what moon they were under, but it wouldn't have mattered if he did, because she captured his entire attention. His heart soared free tonight, free of expectations and conditions. Her soft gold curls fascinated his muddled brain, and as they rotated slowly, she curiously moved her hand up his bare chest, white light reflecting off the muscles he'd spent months building, to the key that hung over his heart._

"_What's this?" she whispered, and when her intense cerulean eyes traveled up to his, he gulped. _

_He couldn't help the flood of memories that overwhelmed him, and he was six again, holding the paper-dry hand of his dying grandmother._

"_Marcus," she whispered, and he leaned in closer in order to catch the elusive strains of her fading voice. "I have something for you."_

_He swallowed painfully, trying not to cry, because one of the few things the father he never saw had ever told him was that men never cry. "What is it, grandma?"_

"_I was going to give this to your father for the girl he loved, but he left and I never saw him again until you were born. So now I give it to you. I know you'll think this is silly, but give it to her, the right girl, when you find her." From underneath her hospital gown she produced a glimmering crystal key._

"_How will I know if it's her?" he asked as he accepted one last present from the woman who raised him._

"_You'll know," she assured him, smiling as she caressed his cheek one last time. Those were the last words she ever spoke, and without her he wandered, a lone lost boy, until the Shepherds took him in._

"_My grandmother gave it to me, for the right girl," he said, and she smiled, an angel's smile that blinded him to all else. He fumbled with the clasp, gave up, and pulled it gently over his head. It dangled for a moment in the moonlight, throwing sparkles on their bent faces, and then he slid it over her crown of curls, settling it on her bare skin._

_Their eyes met, and he reveled in the fact that no words were needed. His past girlfriends always needed assurances: that he loved them, that they weren't fat, that he wasn't cheating on them, that he cared … but she could read it all in the planes of his face, no words needed. Then his lips were on hers and it was like tasting liquid heaven and it was wrong but he was too far gone, and he was falling, falling so fast, and they were moving so, so fast …_

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¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"That one," he said, singling out a dark haired intern, "is sleeping with that one." He pointed out a tall blonde one.

"You can't know that," Addison laughed from beside him. "And you could at least refer to them by their names."

"I do know that, I can tell," he argued. "And at least I don't have them do my dry cleaning anymore."

"No, you have them do other things," she said sarcastically as Lexie walked by. If he had heard her comment, maybe he would have replied with a sarcastic retort, but he was distracted by the shine of her scarlet hair, by the way her navy silk blouse brushed up against her lush skin, by the way her skirt made her legs seem to extend for miles …

"Okay, fine. Tell me more," she said, not seeming to notice his staring, nor his blatant observation of her swirling her fingers around the lid of her coffee, trying not to let his brain drift and remember what those fingers could and had done.

He wondered at her sudden interest, and then he remembered that Sage was being taken home today. "Nurse Olivia has slept with every doctor in the direct vicinity."

She laughed, and he marveled at the sound. Whenever she was gone, the sound of her laughter always seemed to escape him. "Except me."

"Yeah, and me," he lied quickly.

"Liar, you did too sleep with her. Callie told me about the pact the nurses made against you." She seemed vastly amused by his indiscretions, but inside, he was cursing himself. She had always eschewed his polygamous ways, even when no one had ever cared to reprimand him before, and he still felt like he was betraying again whenever he fell back into his old ways.

"What else has Callie told you?" He had forgotten that she and Callie had become friends even before he and Callie had, and he made a mental note to drill the fiery resident next time he saw her.

"Lots of stuff," she teased, dangling it on a string in front of him.

"She didn't tell you anything about me and Lexie, did she?"

"Like what?" she asked, curiosity practically leaking out of her despite her reserved expression.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Come on, Mark, you know I'm just gonna ask Callie later …"

"Fine," he huffed, unable to believe he was telling her this. Then again, Addison held his master key, and was unable to unlock even his deepest secrets with little effort at all. "There was an incident, a few weeks ago, and Lexie … Lexie broke my penis."

He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth, when coffee splattered the front of his scrub top as Addison burst out laughing. "Hey," he protested when she gripped the counter to hold herself up, attempting but failing utterly to stifle her laughter with one perfectly manicured hand.

"It's not that," she said breathlessly, still laughing, "although it is ironic that _you _would break _that _of all things. It's karma, I guess … the day after you left Seattle the first time, I went out to walk Doc, and I didn't want to go back to the trailer to pee because Derek was being an ass, so I squatted … and I got poison ivy in place you _really _don't want poison ivy."

"I can't believe you got poison ivy there," he said with a wicked grin.

"Well, I still can't believe you slept with Olivia," she retorted with a pout.

"I only did it to forget you." The words slithered out without his permission, and he immediately desired to swallow them up, because her face closed up as she looked away from him and out across the hospital. He would have liked to imagine her expression was wistful instead of blank, but he couldn't really justify such a conclusion because it lacked any basis in fact. His heart was wishing as hard as it could, but it seemed that friendship was all he would ever possess.

Until she looked back, face animated again, favoring him with a slight smile. "Sorry," she said. "I'm not feeling all that great. I have a headache." And his thoughts spun back to the redheaded boy whom he would never see again after today, and he wondered why that distressed him almost as much as Addison, like he was losing something he'd never had.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

A lot of strange things had happened in Seattle Grace, most of them since he'd been here, but even an overabundance of experience with the insane did not afford him insight to why his fiancée was hiding in the stairwell.

"Mer," he called, smirking as she jumped and nearly fell down the stairs. "What are you _doing_?"

"Hiding from Izzie," she whispered, taking his hand and pulling him up the stairs. "She's like a bridesmaid horror show."

"It can't be that bad," he objected, but her frown made him shut his mouth quickly.

"It can," she moaned, "and you better hide too, because she wants you to pick out your tux and give you an outline for your vows, which we're apparently writing ourselves. And _then _she'll want you to go over the menus she laid out, which is a waste of time, because Addison says we probably won't have time to eat anyway." All this was said in a single breath and when it was all out, Meredith slumped against him, apparently exhausted. "And I'm tired, and I'm supposed to be on Bailey's service today but I'm hiding from her too."

"We could hide together," he breathed in her ear.

"Hmm, having naughty thoughts, aren't we Dr. Shepherd?" she asked with a grin, leaning up against the wall, her eyes appraising him teasingly.

"In a stairwell? Seriously?" he asked, not permitting her adequate time to respond as he kissed her deeply, stealing her breath and cementing her to the wall. "Rather kinky, don't you think?"

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, capturing his lips again and slipping her hands under his scrub top.

"Your wish, my command," he said with what little air was left to him, and then he resigned himself to leaving conscious thought behind, because Meredith's hands and lips and body wove a spell so heady and thick that escape was a preposterous and unwelcome concept. One hand rested at the base of her skull, entwined in her hair, but the other was left free to roam and bringing forth moans wherever it went …

The door exploded open, and he and Meredith jumped apart like startled animals. "Mer! Bad, no, Derek, stop! You need to focus!" Izzie yelled at them, running up the stairs with her hand over her eyes. "No time for sex! Surgery and wedding only."

"She's like the wedding Nazi," Meredith whispered in his ear as she pulled away.

"_Later!" _he mouthed in response.

"Hey! I heard that, and saw that. Hands off, Derek Shepherd!" Izzie snapped, reminding him of the time he'd gotten punished by his teacher for holding hands with Madeline Kaminski in third grade.

Meredith grimaced and allowed herself to be led away by Izzie, looking like she was literally being dragged to her death. Bailey soon intercepted them, yelling "Grey! Where the hell have you been?" He headed off to his craniotomy reluctantly, but not before affording himself one last glance. Meredith was looking at the same time, and when she met his eyes, she held up her clipboard, revealing the words she'd written. _Later, definitely._

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She was sure all of the clocks had joined a conspiracy against her. Their hands sped around the large white disks, passing numbers by at an unprecedented rate, caring not that they were causing the very event she was dreading to come faster.

Representatives from the boy's home were arriving at three to take Sage back, and as she watched him arrange his street clothes on the bed, over and over, she wasn't sure who was dreading it more. He had become, in the past few weeks, not only a stand-in for her lost child but a person she cared greatly about. Addison had thought that, as a top surgeon, she had mastered the concept of distance, but this boy blew all the rules away, worming his way into her heart effortlessly.

She checked her watch: 2:45. Hadn't she just left her bed in the Archfield, feet falling silently onto the carpeted floor, and stumbled toward the shower? Hadn't she just done that eight o'clock c-section and watched those deliriously happy parents clutch that baby like they'd never let him go?

She was alone with the sound of her new Manolo Blahniks against tile, and as she extended a shaking arm towards Sage's door, the truth bore down on her: this was the last time she'd do this, the last time she'd see him, the last time she'd enter this room to find the beaming smile of a certain redheaded boy. The. Last. Time. Ever.

Sage sat dejectedly on the bed, hunched back towards her. "I don't want to leave," she heard him say to the sheets surrounding him; his skinny grasshopper legs sprawled beneath him.

"I know," she replied, being tugged to his side instantly, by instinct instead of free choice. She pulled his limp form to her, wondering at the rightness. They fit together, bodies composed of the same elements, matching hair mingling as they clung to each other, conveying with touch what they couldn't with words. Sage buried his face in her silk blouse, the same way he'd hid his bloody head the first time they met, and she ran her hand through his hair, convincing herself that those _weren't _tears in her eyes.

As he pulled away, she glimpsed something she hadn't seen before: a thin silver chain hung around his neck, continuing down into his hospital gown to the bump on his chest where she guessed a pendant hung. Curious, she asked, "What's that?"

"Oh," he said, pulling it out to show her. The chain was long, oversized on the small eight year old, and from the end … dangled a crystal key, reflecting mini-rainbows all around the room.

A key that had dangled at her own throat for nine months, nine years ago.

The effect of the ice seeping through her veins was a hundred times worse than when she'd found out her son was alive, because it was _impossible. _Her son had not been sitting in front of her all this time … it was crazy and improbable and just so unlikely … and yet when ocean blue met jade green, she wanted it to be true so badly.

The power of movement had not been fully restored to her yet … she was still reeling, trying to grasp the implications of the key dangling from this boy's … from _her son's _hand. What were the chances that she and her long lost child would just happen to be at Seattle Grace on the same day … unless it had taken all of them; her, Archer, Naomi, Sam, Derek, the ones by her side while she carried Sage, to bring him back?

"Addie?" Sage asked when she drew a rattling breath, trying to get oxygen to the cells that had frozen in shock. Tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged him once more, lest he be taken away from her again. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice muffled. "I can't breathe."

"Where did you get that?" she asked, gesturing at the necklace, her voice unintentionally harsh as she tried to hold back the tears making a break for freedom.

Sage flinched, and her heart contracted. _Her child? Could it be?_ "I didn't steal it!" he said earnestly, celery eyes as wide as coins in his innocent face. "I didn't! It was my parents'. They left it with me."

"I always wondered where it went," she mused, lost in the distant strands of time. The car crash, the glass, the crimson blood leaking from her body at an alarming rate, and then the blackness, the cold, the fear … "I thought I lost it in the crash."

"The crash when you baby died?" he sought to clarify, puzzled by her odd behavior. She had, in one of their lunchtime conversations, told him about her dead baby, but she had neglected to mention he wasn't really dead when she found out.

"He didn't die," she whispered, and understanding dawned on Sage's face like the rising sun. He looked like he was trying to repress an profusion of hope, in case the universe struck his childish expectations down again. "They told me he died, but they lied," she continued, unable to stop, and by _they _she meant Bizzy, because she couldn't bear to tell this child that his own grandmother had taken him away from her. "They gave him away the night he was born. December 12, 2000."

"That's my birthday," Sage said, his voice just as soft, like they were speaking at a funeral. Addison drank in every word, every tiny detail, trying, in her mind, to make up for all she'd missed. His smile was slightly lopsided; his skin was a soft bronze from playing in the sun, his scarlet hair flipped out at the edges. Sage too was studying her, and she wondered what he was seeing.

Were mothers supposed to wear designer clothes? Were they supposed to have perfect hair? Did some have tempers and evil parents and manwhore best friends whom they secretly loved? Were they all as lost as her?

"Mom?" Sage asked, as if saying it would make it more real, would concrete his secret wish.

"Yeah, baby, I'm your Mom," she said, so choked up she was barely able to get the words out, enfolding him in her arms a third time. "You're my son," she murmured lovingly, rocking him slowly. "You were right. You did find your parents, or at least one of them. I loved you the minute I saw you, I just couldn't explain it. I love you, Sage Green."

"I wished that you were my mom," he said, turning his small face so she couldn't see his tears. "I wished and wished it and I prayed too."

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Excitement exploded inside Sage like the fireworks older boys used to set off as a dare. _Lucky _was never a word that was applied that had been applied to him before, but how could it not now, when the very person he'd been dreaming of all his life was right in front of him, somehow even better than he'd imagined?

He clutched Addie, _his mother_, as tightly as if he were playing tug-a-war with Fate, because he was never letting her go. When wetness permeated the thin material of his hospital gown, he knew she had lost the battle with tears just as he had. She smelled good, like safety and warmth and subtle perfume.

It was all becoming clear to him now. The sense that allowed him to see things others couldn't had disappeared, for the most part, when he set foot in this hospital, and it was because his mother had been here the entire time. The little things, too, began to add up in his mind: their identical hair color, the way they were able to comfort each other and unable to stay away from each other.

He heard the door open, and craned his neck over Addie's shoulder to look. Several official looking people spilled into the room along with Dr. Richard, Dr. Arizona, Dr. Meredith, Dr. Derek, Dr. Mark, Dr. Cristina, and a bunch of Addison's other friends, who, he realized, had come to say goodbye.

The doctors didn't look surprised to see him and Addison hugging, but the others in their dark suits and lifeless faces, licenses to take him away clutched in their cold fists, looked positively shocked.

One man cleared his throat and stepped forward, and Addison whirled around, blanching at the sight of their sudden audience. "May I ask what's going on? I trust you are aware that Sage Green is being returned to the boy's home, from which he ran away almost a month ago, today."

"I'm never going back there," he told them loudly, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue.

"No, he's not," Addison confirmed resolutely, and he grinned, flagrant defiance shining through.

"What are you talking about?" the man demanded sternly.

"Addison …" Dr. Mark muttered softly, trying to catch her eye, but she ignored him.

"He's not going anywhere with you," she repeated

"You don't have the authority to …"

"Yes I do. He's my son." Sage thought, in retrospect, that those words were the sweetest ever spoken, and he repeated them like a mantra in his head. _He's my son. He's my son. He's my son. _How wonderful it was, to finally belong!

As for the others, well, Addison might have just dropped a bomb in their midst. The effect, he thought, must have been similar to being thrust under an overlarge magnifying glass. Everyone's eyes slid between him and Addie, picking up on slight similarities in their features. But she turned to him and smiled, drinking in his appearance like it was the first time she'd ever seen him, and she reached up to brush cool fingers across his cheek.

"Addison, how can you –" Richard began, but she cut across him.

"It's a long story, but I doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that eight years ago, Sage was given up for adoption without my knowledge. If you don't believe me, look through your precious files," she snapped, completely dethroning all assumptions and disbelief, offering to peel the truth clean and raw for them all to see.

Conversation broke out like a horde of angry bees, but he didn't care. His new knowledge safeguarded his heart, an unbreakable wall consisting of happiness and victory and love and a thousand other emotions that had no name. The social services representatives congregated in a circle, whispering furiously, while the other doctors simply stared.

"Oh my god," Callie breathed.

"I can't-" Derek began.

"-believe-" Mark interjected.

"-it," Richard finished.

"Well, I can," Meredith crowed. "I so called that!"

"She did," Cristina confirmed, rolling her eyes to show how ridiculous she found them all.

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**So, Addison finally knows Sage is her son! And I can only say that things get even more crazy within the next few chapters ...**

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	11. Staplegunned

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**11. _Staplegunned  
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**Wow, guys, your reviews last time were absolutely amazing! And believe me, I'm happy too that Addison knows that Sage is her son. Here's the next chapter for you, hope you like it! Staplegunned is a song by The Spill Canvas.**

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_Eight Years Ago: _

_A neatly frosted path lay in front of her, being slowly littered with new fallen snow. Addison hurried up it, cursing, for the one hundredth time that day, her choice to wear heels in the New York wonderland._

"_Addie!" came calls from the kitchen as soon as she managed to unlock the door and fall inside of it. She leaned against the doorframe, the baby inside of her having positively exhausted her, and began unraveling her many layers of clothing._

"_How'd it go?" Naomi asked excitedly as she appeared around the corner, mocha skin lit up by the bright fire and Sam's arm tight around her shoulders._

"_Good, good. He," she said, putting emphasis on the word, "is doing great."_

"_It's a boy?" Sam asked joyfully, eyeing her humongous stomach._

"_I thought you were going to wait and have it be a surprise?" Derek said as he and Archer emerged from the kitchen. He kissed her cheek softly, his lips lingering there, and she could smell hints of scotch and cider on his breath._

"_I was, but my OB forgot to tell me to look away and I saw … definitely a boy," she said with a proud grin. _

"_Addie, mother called," Archer said, twirling a small bottle between his fingers. "She wants to meet for dinner in Seattle in a couple of weeks."_

"_Hello, Archer, nice to see you too. No flavor of the week tonight?" Addison teased her brother, ignoring the comment about their mother. The last time she had seen Bizzy was over three months ago, when the Montgomery house had been on the brink of explosion as a result of Bizzy's discovery of Addison's pregnancy. Case in point, it had not been pretty, and she was surprised her mother would willingly speak to her._

"_Amber found out about Taylor, who found out about Lisa," he explained indifferently. "But I met this girl Mercedes …"_

"_Okay, okay, we don't need to hear any more," Derek interrupted. "I've already got enough of that over the years from Mark."_

"_Ah, the mysterious Mark. Are we ever going to get to meet him?" Addison asked Derek. "I'm starting to think he's like your imaginary friend or something, and you're going to have to hire someone to pretend to be him in order to save face."_

"_Haha, funny. No, Mark is still traveling the world, errant as ever. He'll drop in eventually, up to the nines in alcohol. Anyway," he said, resting a hand on her expanded belly gently, "got any idea for names for this little one?"_

"_Samuel. Now there's a nice name," Sam suggested with a wide smile._

"_I kind of like Nathan," Naomi mused._

"_Derington," Archer proposed._

"_That has got to be one of the most pretentious names I've ever heard," Addison snapped at her brother. "You sound like Bizzy."_

"_Fine, fine," Archer said, backing up with his hands raised. "I'll just shut up."_

"_Daniel?" Derek wanted to know._

"_No, Skippy Gold's older brother was named Daniel. He would always stare at me during band," said Addison with a shudder. "I think Daniel Gold scarred me more than Skippy did when he kissed me and got our braces stuck at prom."_

"_You could name him December," Naomi suggested. "Since he's going to be born, without a doubt, this month."_

"_Hmm," she said. "I want him to have a unique name, but maybe not quite that unique._

_Archer, apparently, couldn't help himself. "I got it, Lionel."_

"_God, I already feel sorry for your kids," Naomi joked. "They're going to have the strangest names."_

"_If I ever do have kids, I probably won't know," Archer pointed out._

"_That's true," Addison said, rolling her eyes at her brother. "I don't know, I was kinda thinking of naming him Alexander. I haven't decided for sure yet, but it sounds like a good name."_

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Addison?" Derek called when he was nearly knocked over by a storm of fiery red.

She paused unwillingly, answering, "What, Derek?" in an exasperated tone. He thought it best not to mention that her hair was sticking up slightly from running and that one of the buttons of her lilac silk blouse was undone.

"Nothing, I just … I heard that you get to take Sage home today, and I just wanted to say I'm really happy for you both. And if you two need anything …" He trailed off, unsure how to continue. They were talking about the boy that, if things had gone differently, would have been his son. Of course he felt a bit of responsibility, although he didn't regret how things had turned out.

Her face softened, her usual mask melting, and she sighed. "Thanks, Der. That means a lot."

"So you still don't … know anything about the father?" He felt intrusive, like he was peeking in at a life that wasn't his to look at anymore. He wasn't entitled to Addison's secrets. And yet, if she was being left to raise a child alone by someone who simply didn't want anything to do with her, well, he was going to have something to say about that.

Addison smiled ruefully, staring down at her three inch heels. "Nope. Never even found out his name. Things were … different back then, I guess. I was blonde, did I ever tell you that? Anyway, in a very Mark-esque moment, I slept with him and left in the morning without even talking to him."

She had never, ever spoken a single word about her child's father before, not even during the closest days of their relationship, so he was surprised to hear the details she was spouting. They took root in his brain and he struggled with them, sure that there was something he was missing, something that should have been obvious.

"How did you know Sage was your son?" he asked her, trying to make sense of the strange feeling. It was like the universe was manipulating all of them: Sage, Addison, now him. Why else had Addison and her son shown up here on the same day? What other explanation was there for their connection, invisible but so, so vivid?

For a second he was sure she wouldn't answer, because this was going to far, unlocking things she kept hidden deep. But then she sighed. "He gave me a crystal key necklace the night we met, which Bizzy gave to Sage when she put him up for adoption. Listen, Derek, this has been lovely," her mouth twisted, the irony pungent, "but I've gotta go get Sage, so I'll see you later. Oh, and Derek?" she called as she walked away, "You might want to avoid Izzie if at all possible. She practically assaulted Meredith this morning because she hasn't written her vows yet."

"Right, thanks," he said vaguely. Crystal key … why was that familiar? What was he missing?

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Sage woke up practically bursting with excitement, like an overripe fruit. Today, it was finally official, he was finally claimed. It had taken the boring administrators several eternities to sort out the paperwork and confirm that he was indeed Addie's son. And today he got to go home with her, after she signed yet _more _slips of paper saying that she did not want to press charges against the hospital who had given him up nor start an investigation about the person who had forged her signature. He had a feeling that she knew exactly who it was, but if she did, she wasn't telling him. But, he supposed it didn't matter. He'd done what he had set out to do, and all other details faded into insignificance.

"Hey, bud," Addie said brightly as she entered. It still felt slightly odd to call her mom, like a shoe that wasn't broken in yet. She kissed his forehead lightly, smiling as she did so, and looked around the room. "You ready to go?"

"Yup," he said, hopping out of bed, almost tripping over the sheets in his eagerness. He'd gone to bed last night in his clothes in preparation for the day to come. This was the accumulation of his life thus far; this was his ultimate dream, his prevailing goal. This was everything he'd even wished upon a star for and more.

He squirmed as his mother squinted at him, her expression disapproving as he gathered his few possessions and headed toward the door. All his life he'd felt unwanted, extra, invisible, like the world had turned its back on him and abandoned him to capricious Chance and its erratic whims. His path, always tortuous and winding, was straightening out, affording him a long-awaited glimpse of what lay ahead.

"You need some new clothes," Addie said as she scrutinized him. "And new shoes." He inspected his shabby attire, abashed, until she slung an arm around his shoulders. "We'll go shopping after we stop at the hotel."

"Hotel?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's where I'm staying while I'm here. Sorry, I know it's not the most fun place to be, but it has a nice pool and everything." She seemed worried about his reaction, looking anxiously for the first sign of discord in his face.

"You mean you don't live here?"

"No, honey, I live in LA." Los Angeles … it was worlds away, especially seeing as he'd never set foot out of the state of Washington in his life. But the feeling, the one that had led him here, flared up again. He needed to stay in Seattle, of that he was sure.

"I don't want to live in LA," he said, urged on by the feeling, like little pushes against his brain. "I want to stay here."

"Sorry, baby," she said, grimacing slightly. Did she like LA? It didn't seem like it. She'd already been in Seattle for a month. "But that's where I live. I used to live here in Seattle, but … things didn't go so well."

He was tempted to ask what she meant by that, but her face was so sad, there was a multitude of hidden tragedies inscribed all over it, so he restrained himself and sighed. There had to be something he could do to convince her to stay, like she so obviously wanted to but could not justify. Little did the boy know that it would not be he who convinced her.

They ran into Dr. Mark by the exit, and Addison paused, the tension in the air instantly escalating. It wasn't bad tension, necessarily, merely the feeling that invisible words were walking between them, a secret language he did not speak.

Finally Mark spoke, breaking the taunt silence. "You finally taking the kid home?"

Addison nodded, but Sage couldn't resist interrupting, "Yeah, but we have to go to a lame hotel because Mom lives in LA."

The words left his lips unbidden, and the second they did, he wished there was a way to snatch them back up again, because he'd unleashed a monster embodying infinite unspoken emotions. Dr. Mark winced visibly while his mom blushed and looked away.

"But …" Mark finally stuttered. "I kinda thought you were staying here."

"I live in LA, Mark," Addison said, her voice devoid of feeling.

Sage doubted Mark could have looked more hurt if someone had taken a scalpel to his heart. They stared at each other, ice blue eyes battling with sapphire, and he wished he'd never got in the middle of this, whatever it was.

"We both know you don't belong there, Addie," Mark said.

"Where do I belong then, Mark? As a regret, like you said?" she snapped. He'd always thought anger was hot, like fire, but he learned from her that frigid anger was much more potent, like frostbite.

"I never said you were a regret, Addison!" Mark yelled, causing faces to turn towards them from all angles around them.

"I can't do this now," his mother said, tugging his hand toward the door. Agony was present in her voice, and he longed, searched, prayed for a phrase that would make this all better, but none came to him.

"Are you okay?" he whispered as they exited into the humid Seattle air. The sun was shining for once, bathing the striking city in light. He thought he saw Addie's hand flutter to her eyes, like she was wiping them, but when she answered, her voice was steady.

"I'm fine," she said. Then, "Do you really want to live here that badly?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to mess up your life in LA," he said contritely.

"LA wasn't working the best anyway," she admitted, glancing back at the doors behind which Mark existed. "I – I'll think about staying, okay? But we will have to go back, at least for a few days. I promised a coworker of mine, Violet, that I would deliver her baby. Anyway … I was thinking we could stop and get some ice cream and then go to the mall. Does that sound good?"

"It sounds excellent," he said.

They exchanged smiles, both hopeful for the future that would come, the new life they were weaving out of strands of their old. But he couldn't help wondering: What had gone on between his mother and Mark?

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Look at this!" Sage practically yelled, his small, warm hand yanking over to a video game display. _Mom. _She was still getting used to it, hearing it from her own child's lips instead of somebody else's, having that word mean her and not some other lucky woman.

"Mom, can I have one of those?" When Sage turned pleading emerald eyes on her, she instantly decided he'd been spending too much time with Mark, because he had mastered the expression that she could never resist. Sighing, she took a look at the box he was holding up so eagerly. She figured out it was some sort of game system, but beyond that, she was lost. "It's a Wii," Sage said in response to her confused expression. "Can I have it?"

"Um …" She didn't want to spoil her son, but it wasn't like he'd ever had anything good before in his life. Just seeing him in his tattered orphanage clothes made her shudder. Besides, it wasn't like her mountains of money, which meant next to nothing to her, weren't rotting away in some foreign bank anyway. "Sure, but we won't really have anywhere to put it," she told him, and was gratified when his face lit up like a lantern. "And we're supposed to be shopping for clothes," she reminded him.

"Yuck," he said, making a face. He skipped ahead, eager eyes lingering on the flashing displays of toys and games.

"Sage, honey, please slow down!" she called. "You were hit by a _car _not too long ago, and you had a severe concussion, and a broken collar bone and rib. Your arm is still in a cast!" He rolled his eyes, giving her an exasperated look, but slowed until he fell in beside her. "I have an idea. Why don't we go look at shoes first?" she offered. "That's better than clothes, right?"

Sage thought for a moment, then nodded. "Much better. I've never had new shoes before." Mom," he asked after a minute, his eyes full of insatiable curiosity, "what's my middle name?"

"I don't think they gave you one, honey," she admitted. "Sorry. But," she added, thinking quickly as his face fell, "when I was pregnant with you, I wanted to name you Alexander. That could be your middle name, if you want."

"Sage Alexander Green Montgomery," he said, trying out the words, measuring their cadence against the air. "I like it. That means I have four names now. How many names do you have, Mom?"

"Three," she said. "I had four once, but now I just have three."

"Why? Did you lose one?" he asked.

"No, I got divorced," she admitted.

"Who were you married to? My dad?" Although she kept walking forward beside Sage, Addison felt like she had missed a step, or plummeted down several floors in an elevator. It was inevitable that Sage would ask about his dad, that he would wonder who fathered him and where he was. But it was a question she was unprepared to answer. How to tell an eight year old that his father was little more than an incandescent dream in a fantasy that would never come again?

"No, not your dad. I was married to … Derek." Her ex-husband's name fell uncertainly from her lips, because she was sure that Sage's acquaintance with Derek would only lead to harder and harder questions.

But to her surprise, her son's face turned contemplative, as if he sensed that she didn't want to discuss it. "That's kinda weird," he finally said, wrinkling his nose, and she laughed. "But maybe it just seems that way to me because you've both moved on. Anyway, if you weren't married to my dad … then who was he?"

In that moment, she finally understood the convoluted dilemma of motherhood. She'd never wanted to be the kind of mother who lied to her kids blatantly, but her instinct was to protect Sage and hope that he never found out the things it hurt to know. It was an irrational, impossible dream, to shield him from all the bad clouding the world, because eventually he would have to know about it to survive, but she wished she could save him from such harm forever.

In the end, though, she couldn't lie to eyes that bespoke of apples and peacocks and exotic spices all at once. "I met him a really long time ago, and I don't know him anymore," she said. It wasn't the clear-cut, pure truth, but it was close. Or, at least, she thought in that particular moment in time that it was close.

She expected an interrogation, after all, what child would understand that their mother didn't know their father? But Sage merely shrugged, and she wondered at his advanced maturity until he said, "That's what happened to Eddie, at the boy's home. He was twelve, and he said that he never met his dad and that his mom couldn't take care of him anymore. That's why she gave him up."

Sage looked away as he spoke, refusing to even look at her until she put a hand on his skinny shoulder. "I always wanted you, Sage, do you hear me?"

"Yeah," he muttered, falling into her arms when she held them out. People flowed around them, an endless river of destinations and purposes, but all she could see was the redheaded boy in her arms. He sniffed and she squeezed his body tightly, holding him to him like it could keep him there forever, and she wished it could. They'd already lost eight years, and she wasn't going to waste even a second longer.

"Love you," she reminded him, standing up. "Now let's pick out some shoes."

"Any shoes I want?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Any shoes you want," she promised.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Hmm," Derek sighed, rolling over so his head was cushioned against her bare belly. "This is nice."

"Yes," she agreed, stroking his damp ebony curls absently. Their engagement, so far, had been nothing short of blissful, but the weather was unfortunately not in tune with their ecstasy. Summer was circling Seattle, biding its time until its final swoop, but they already felt the effects of the sun's early celebration. She was sweaty even while wearing nothing more than Derek's boxers.

Still, she couldn't figure out while she was so uncomfortable. Guilty, even, like her body was covered in itches she couldn't scratch. The feeling was similar to what she had felt during the serial killer's death, pity even though it wasn't her fault …

"Der," she finally said, sitting up so quickly her head spun. She probably should have paused, thought this plan through just a bit more, but jumping in headfirst was just ingrained too deeply in her personality. "I have an idea. It's kind of a crazy idea, and I don't know what you're going to say, but …"

"Just tell me," he said, moving his lips to her knee, nipping the skin softly and arousing her from head to toe.

"I can't think when you do that," she complained, swatting his head away. "Anyway, Der … I think we should have Addison and Sage come stay with us."

"_What_?" Derek asked, looking at her like she belonged in a mental institution. "In what world would having my ex-wife stay here, while we're planning our wedding, be a good idea?"

"It's just that she has a kid now, and she's all alone, and poor Sage has to live in a hotel …" she whined persuasively. "It won't be that bad. Addison's good at planning weddings."

"You really want to do this?" Derek asked.

"Really really," she said.

"Okay," he sighed, rising and combing the floor for his discarded clothes. "It's just that when Addison first came in and introduced herself as my wife, well, I certainly never thought that you'd have her willingly stay at our house."

"Meredith!" Sage cried in delight when the door burst open half a second after she knocked. "And Derek, hi! Look, Mom got me new shoes!" He stuck out each of his feet in turn, which were decked out in checkered Vans. "And new clothes! And a soccer ball! And a Wii!"

Sage and Addison's hotel room was expensive, elegant, and well-furnished, but it was nobody's home. Addison's many designer clothes were piled all over the floor, along with Sage's new things. "How would you like to come stay with us?" she asked Sage, ruffling his floppy, gold-tinted crimson locks.

"Anywhere is better than dumb hotel. My mom said I had to stop playing soccer inside after I hit a lamp. It was supposed to be the goalie, but she said that it wasn't a toy."

"Where is Addison?" Derek asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Oh, she's right there," Sage said, pointing at the bed where Addison lay curled up. "She wasn't feeling that great." Addison started slightly when she heard her name and sat up, squinting at Derek and Meredith like she'd imagined them. "Mom, can we stay with Derek and Meredith? Please?" Sage pleaded, already on his knees in front of his small suitcase.

"Seriously?" Addison asked, looking between them. The redheaded woman looked lost, for all her strength and independence, and Meredith knew it couldn't be easy to suddenly find yourself a full-time parent, not to mention being so utterly betrayed by the person who was supposed to have raised you. But she did know that she would need some major help.

"Seriously," she said.

"Okay," Addison said hesitantly, standing unsteadily. She began throwing her clothes in her own suitcase, occasionally glancing up as if suspecting she and Derek would change their minds. "Meredith, Derek, are you absolutely sure -"

"Positive," Derek said firmly, hefting one of Addison's many bags and Sage's suitcase, which still had the tags on it.

"Come on, Mom," Sage said softly, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward them. And mother and son followed her and Derek out, the first steps to a new existence.

* * *

**So Addison and Sage are living with Meredith and Derek ... this should be interesting. It's funny, that wasn't exactly planned, but sometimes characters just get minds of their own. At least they do when I write. Anyway let me know if you liked it :D**

* * *


	12. Dear Vienna

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸** Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**12. _Dear Vienna_**

**This isn't my favoritest (not sure that's a word, but whatever) chapter ever, but it kinda had to happen. Everyone's reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and make me write even when I don't feel like it. Although usually, I feel like it. I just have too many stories right now. Anyway Dear Vienna is a song by Owl City. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Twenty-eight Years Ago: The Plan_

"_Slow down, Mark! You'll fall!" A five year old Nancy Shepherd yelled as the swift feet of two boys splattered her with mud, soiling her pale pink dress. "Derek!"_

"_You can't come with us, Nance," Derek said, puffing out his chest. He was only two years older than Nancy, but he was over a head taller and Mark was taller still. "Boys only!"_

"_Yeah, sorry," Mark agreed, beginning down the steep bank of the creek where Carolyn Shepherd's children, including Mark, were forbidden to go. Rocks tumbled down with him, but he kept his balance, throwing tanned arms out to keep from falling. Finally, he skidded to a stop at the bottom, running into the cool creek._

"_Please, Derek?" Nancy pleaded, chocolate eyes wide, but Derek only shook his head and followed Mark. These moments made him feel like death was sitting on his shoulder. The small cliff, although steep for two seven year old boys, would be easily traversed by an adult. Sometimes he and Mark pretended they were flying._

_But in his haste to get away from his sister, he slipped down too fast. His toe hit a rock at the very end and he went flying, truly taking to the bluebell colored sky. Derek was sure, in that second, that he would meet an untimely death just like his father. He expected all seven years of his life to flash before his eyes, giving him a glimpse of every childhood fight, every Christmas, every birthday, and he would see his father … but all he ended up seeing was a short scene of the azure sky mixing in with brilliant green trees …_

_And then Derek felt a small but strong force grab the back of his shirt, and he looked to see Mark. Blushing and embarrassed because Mark had made the slide without falling, Derek could only nod in thanks. Mark didn't seem to mind, but as Derek studied his best friend, he noticed something had fallen out of Mark's shirt when he'd moved so quickly to catch Derek – a necklace._

_He probably should have been grateful to Mark for saving his life, or at least his face, but, prompted by needling humiliation, Derek pointed at the key dangling in front of Mark's chest. "What's that, a necklace? Maybe you should have stayed behind with Nancy."_

_Mark, who got in fights every other week at school, who hid frogs in the teacher's desk to make her scream, simply shrugged serenely. "It's not for me. It's for the girl I love someday." He said this with such complete confidence that Derek's mouth fell open. Jealousy overtook him – how could Mark know these things, be so sure? Still, Mark knew nothing about girls. Derek was the one with four sisters, Mark didn't understand the inner workings of women._

"_That's stupid," Derek said, kicking the dirt. He peeked at Mark's reaction. Was it stupid? Or should he find some sort of necklace too?_

"_Maybe it is," Mark conceded in a voice that indicated he was just humoring Derek. "But my grandmother told me to do it before she died, so I'm going to."_

_Derek snorted, but he would wish, twenty-eight years later to be exact, that he hadn't been so skeptical. Because Mark gave that necklace to Derek's future wife before Derek ever met her. And she gave it to her son, and the next time he saw that necklace it was hanging around Sage Montgomery's neck, and it was only a matter of time before he put the pieces together._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The strange, enigmatic exhaustion had barely dragged her down again when a gentle tap on her shoulder woke her. She had been dreaming of a previous life, when Mark's arm around her shoulders had not drawn curious glances. During the two brief, shining months in New York when she had been able to call him hers, guilt was in constant equilibrium with happiness. Those months were up for a rehash in every aspect of the word, but there was no way for her to know it yet.

"Mom," Sage whispered, tapping her shoulder. "Mom!" That word roused her like nothing else could – part of it was the unfamiliarity, part of it was the boy saying it.

She sat up, lingering sleep spinning her thoughts in circles. "What is it?" she mumbled. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm sick," the boy said, his voice dry and cracking. She felt for his hand, seeking to console him, and found him burning hot, like he had embers smoldering under his skin. She swung her feet over to the side of the bed, getting slowly to her feet while keeping hold of his blazing hand. Both she and Sage wore old t-shirts, and she felt a strange twinge as she realized they had once been Mark's.

"Come on," she told Sage, and mother and son crept through Derek and Meredith's silent house. His steps were halting, inhibited by sickness, and she caught his burning body as he stumbled. Tortured jade eyes tugged at her heart and she stared around the unfamiliar house. Though Derek had come here many times during her stay in Seattle, she'd never seen the inside of casa de intern. She dug Advil out of the pantry, hoping to reduce the raging fever, but after watching him sprint to the bathroom, she was unsure whether he could keep it down.

Instead she sank down on the couch, cradling her only child in her arms, hanging onto him as if that could stop the shivers that wracked his small body. Technically, this was his first night as her son. His immune system was probably shot from all the recent surgery and trauma and soon he was too weak to even sit up.

"Mom, I'm so cold," he said, his voice alarming soft.

"I know," she whispered back, feeling his forehead. How hot could his body be allowed to burn before he needed to go to the hospital? Addison hoped she was just being paranoid, but seeing her child suffer was indescribably unpleasant. He spilled over the edges of her lap, having already grown too big to fit there, and sweat soaked his borrowed t-shirt, but eventually he fell into an unsettled slumber.

Meredith and Derek found them there several hours later, nestled in the shadows caused by approaching dawn. Her bare foot was pressed up against the bowl she'd gotten for him, and they were swaddled in a thick blanket. To her relief, Sage's breathing had become smooth and peaceful, and his head wasn't quite so hot. "Addie, you're going to get sick," Derek said.

"I don't care," she said, and it was true. There had been nobody before to take care of her son, she thought as she smoothed crimson curls from his forehead. And she was going to do it now.

The sun had barely peeked her face over the shape of the earth when she found herself bent over the porcelain basin. Proximity to Sage had allowed the sickness to jump from him to her, although that was no fault of his. She'd been unable to resist cradling his fevered body through every hour, and now she was sick as well.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Addison moved aside just in time for Meredith, who bent over the toilet, retching. After a minute she sat back, joining Addison against the wall.

"Well, this should be interesting," Meredith said ruefully, managing a small smile. "Want me to hold your hair?"

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Derek smiled contentedly as he walked out of his patient's room. Every time he saved someone, it was like walking on top of an effervescent, golden bubble: a candle burned in this dark world for at least a little longer.

He was also secretly relieved to be out of Meredith's house, which had been transformed into some sort of home for the sick. He'd taken care of Addison for years, and of course didn't mind caring for his fiancée, or Sage. But access to a bathroom was nice. It seemed either Addison or Meredith were throwing up, trading off every instant. Sage only laid on the couch, riding out his fever, but he'd been sick enough under the twinkling, watchful stars as Addison fretted and eventually got sick too.

Truthfully, they all looked so pathetic that it was hard to justify going to work, but Meredith had cheerfully kicked him out. It looked like she was planning something with Addison, but he supposed he was getting what he deserved for inviting his ex-wife and her son to live with them. Maybe he could get Sage to tell him what they were going to do.

He smiled as he thought of Sage. Though the boy was not his, he hoped to have a son someday. The energetic, redheaded kid reminded him of himself and Mark as kids, of days spent running wild and free, like young boys did. Days filled with bugs and mud and trucks and secrets … secrets.

Derek stopped in the middle of the hallway, the realization crushing him as effectively as a wayward meteor might. Sage, Mark, his childhood … and a crystal key that reflected rainbows from every facet. A key that Derek had once teased Mark about, and a key that had been around Sage's neck that very morning.

But that was impossible – Sage could not be Mark's son. Mark hadn't given the key to him, because Mark didn't know he had a child. But Sage had Mark's necklace, given to him by his last living relative that had cared for him. It was too flawless to be coincidence. That meant … that meant that Mark had given the key to Addison. That meant Mark and Addison had met before he had met her.

The woman Mark had searched for so fruitlessly, had combed every bar and pub for, was Addison. Hadn't she told him just the other day that once upon a time she'd been blonde? That also meant that when he'd met Addison in a coffee shop in New York, she'd been pregnant with _Mark's_ baby. And Addison and Mark sleeping together when they were married wasn't so much of a betrayal, just an inevitable correcting of what was meant to be.

Derek felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, or maybe like someone had stolen his stomach. Suddenly, he felt he was just as much of a projectile vomit hazard as Addison or Meredith. Addison, who for eleven years had been his wife, was Mark's girl all along.

"_It's for the girl I love someday." _His girl, their girl.

There was more, it got worse, Mark had kept more promises than he'd ever meant to …

"_So you think you're just going to waltz in a sweep her off her feet," Derek stated, sarcasm revealing how ludicrous he found the idea._

"_No, I … I don't know her name. But she's out there, Derek, and I'm going to find her."_

Just as quickly as his insides had congealed, effectively trapping him in place, they suddenly thawed, leaving him free to seek out his best friend, his enemy, his brother. He wasn't sure how long he searched before Mark emerged from the men's bathroom. Derek wasn't as big nor as tall as Mark, that hadn't changed from the time they were boys. But muscles and height were a poor defense against disbelief, betrayal and anger, and Derek pinned him up against the wall.

"Where were you in April of 2000?" he growled, having done the mental math in his head.

"What the fuck are you doing, Shep? Get off me," Mark said, but Derek was as solid as stone in his realization, and he would not budge.

"Just tell me where you were, Mark." His voice boded no argument, he would not, could not accept it until if such a wild imagination could actually be correct. His heart spoke to him, telling him there was no need to interrogate Mark, he knew the truth. But Derek had to hear it aloud. It was so impossible, like something from a fairytale. He and Meredith had their fairytale. Hard as it was, he had to admit that maybe Mark and Addison deserved theirs too.

Mark thought, rubbing his sparse stubble, clearing having decided that arguing with Derek would get him nowhere. "Uh, Greece, I think," he finally said. "Yeah, April I was definitely in Greece. What the hell is this about, Derek?" Mark asked as Derek released him and turned away.

At that moment, Derek controlled the strings of Mark Sloan's life, and was able to manipulate them to his will. What would he say, if Derek told him he had a son? It was only right that he unveiled the truth for everyone, that he drew back the curtains so another love story besides his own could go on. He opened his mouth to say the words, but they stuck in his throat. It was inexplicable besides the possibility that it wasn't his discovery, his life, his child. Mark and Addison needed to figure it out for themselves.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Vision spun underneath his eyelids, woven by the fever. He closed his eyes against the shadows, having lost the ability to tell what was real and what was imagined. Strange figures, present only in dreams, watched him as the heat grew.

He finally figured out that he was hallucinating. The colors playing out in front of him were not real. But what was? Was his mother, bending over him to put a fresh, cool washrag on his forehead a dream too? She looked too solid, clutching her stomach in her too big t-shirt, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe his brain had been truly messed up by the surgery.

Addie's hand on his forehead, stroking his hair and feeling for fever, and Meredith bringing him fresh cups of ginger ale every few minutes reminded him of long days in the boy's home, when everyone was sick. The beds stacked high with ill boys, sweaty limbs tangled, closed off from the others so the sickness wouldn't spread. There had been no one to bring him iced drinks then, no one to hold him and whisper that it would be all right.

They'd opened windows, letting the breeze curls around the sick bodies of boys. He laid in whatever bed he could find, wishing he was able to run through the grass again, and wishing his parents hadn't lost him. The older ones pushed the younger ones aside, shoving them for better beds, disregarding the aching of their feverish limbs. Medicine was in short supply, water splashed over shivering bodies.

He shuddered and focused in on Mer and Addie again. Both were more mobile, able to stand at least, and chatted in hushed voices. The world was hazy, lights strange, the world spinning whenever someone moved, mostly one of the women getting up to throw up.

It was impossible to be comfortable, even with his head on his mother's lap. He could only lay and wait for his sickness to fade. The day was so strange, it was impossible to imagine it was only going to get stranger.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Of all the places she'd expected to go in her life, and of all the things she thought she'd do, helping Addison Montgomery care for her sick son in her and Derek's house was not one of them. The boy's fever flamed out of control and Meredith didn't think little Sage deserved any more pain, nor that Addison should have to watch him endure it.

Addison flopped down, exhausted, as Sage finally slept again. Her voice was hoarse with tiredness as she said, "I don't think we have what he has after all. His fever is in the hundreds now." Her face was tender as she watched her son, counting each breath.

"Yeah," Meredith agreed. "I don't feel quite as bad now." She sat silently for a minute before deciding, perhaps irrationally, to ask the question that was bubbling out of her throat. "What's it like? Suddenly finding out you're a mother, I mean."

Addison looked surprised but not at all offended. She sighed. "I have no idea what I'm doing," she muttered. "I don't know how to be a parent. My parents were never around. My dad was at the office all the time, screwing his various secretaries when he wasn't working. My mother was, and is still, the epitome of socialite. She's interfering now, but I was left to a nanny when I was a child. So I guess … I'm just going to try to give Sage the childhood I always wanted but never had."

So she wasn't the only lost, abandoned child. Addison had been neglected and unloved as well, and Sage had been too, before he was found. "I'm sure you'll be a brilliant mother," she said, noticing how resolute the other woman seemed her claim to be what she herself had never had.

"You would too," Addison complimented. "Have you and Derek ever talked about having kids?"

Meredith rolled over on the couch, hitching up the pajama bottoms she'd stolen from Derek. "We've talked about having a baby eventually. Maybe after we're married. But I – my mother wasn't exactly the caring sort either," she admitted, and Addison smiled sympathetically.

"I know the feeling. But this is my only chance to be a mother, so I'm going to do the absolute best job I can."

It felt weird, getting such insights to Addison's life. It was like washing off a coating of paint so thick that few people had attempted it before. Addison revealed details of her like only under extreme conditions, to people she trusted. Under her flawless masquerade, she was just like anyone else. Any other pretenses were probably an attempt to cover up years of pain, Meredith thought. She did the same thing. Being scary and damaged had been easier, for so many years, than being hurt again. "What do you mean, your only chance?" she asked.

Addison bit her lip and avoided Meredith's storm colored eyes, like she carried a painful weight on her shoulders that was difficult to voice. Meredith blushed slightly, having unwittingly crossed an invisible line. Addison's hand fluttered to her stomach, and when she spoke, undiluted sadness rang out through her voice. "I can't have any more children," she said, expression wistful. "The first time I went to LA, it was to have a baby, but I found out I couldn't."

It was like she and Addison were digging down deep into their lives. Occasionally they'd strike gold, find a vein, but instead of a vein of precious metal, it was a vein of sadness. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to inject as much empathy into her voice as she could. "That really sucks."

"Yeah, well, I don't mind so much now that I have Sage," Addison said, bestowing a smile on her sleeping son. Sick as he was, his face was still lovely, and Meredith couldn't help wondering who had fathered the boy. Because although Addison was beautiful too, Sage's features favored someone else's. "I have enough on my plate taking care of him right now. He needs me."

Still, to not be able to have a baby … it awakened kind of a wistful longing, bringing up a child with Derek's dark hair and blueberry eyes. Meredith could tell that despite Addison putting on a brave face, she still wanted a baby. And to be honest, well, she wanted a baby too.

"That's why Derek and I never had kids," Addison whispered. "I could never get over loosing Sage, no matter how many times Derek mentioned wanting a baby. I already had a baby, he was just lost. Anyway, enough about imperious mothers and lost children. How's the engagement going?"

Meredith laughed, never have imagined discussing her relationship with Derek with Addison. But Izzie was too wedding obsessed to hear about anything else and Cristina claimed she's had enough of hearing about Derek's 'McDreaminess.' "Good. It's all coming together. And Derek is past his depression thing now, so things are great. We can talk, and I'm not afraid, and the sex is … excellent," she said in a muted tone, blushing as Sage gave a particularly loud snore.

Addison chuckled, ocean colored eyes filled with mirth. "Good for you for getting some, Grey," she laughed, sweeping her red waves, which were growing out from her short bob, back. "I haven't slept with anyone since …" her voice faltered as her cheeks were suddenly flooded in red.

"It's okay," said Meredith quickly, standing up and heading for the fridge. Derek had left lasagna in there, and it smelled divine, but she wasn't sure how well it would sit with her stomach. "You don't have to tell me, I –"

"Since Mark," Addison confessed with a groan, like she had committed murder. "I told myself I wouldn't, that I shouldn't, but …" The room seemed full of her declaration, like it couldn't be contained. _Mark's with Lexie_, Meredith thought, but then she remembered that they broke up, briefly, because Mark wouldn't tell Derek. Not because he was afraid, like Lexie had assumed, but because of Addison.

The tangled web they wove was only getting worse.

"I think I love him," Addison said. "But I shouldn't. I really, really shouldn't and I shouldn't be telling you either, because he's dating your sister."

Saying the words felt like a betrayal, like she was stabbing Lexie from behind, but they rang with truth. "I don't think Mark feels about Lexie the way he feels about you, whether she's my half-sister or not." Belatedly she remembered that Addison was the one who had discovered that she had sisters in the first place. But things were so different then, like they were in a different era …

"He loved me once, but he doesn't anymore," Addison said quietly.

"I think he d-" She began, but not before a key turned in the lock and the door burst open. Well, speak of the devil.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Nostalgia was painful, Mark discovered as he and Derek walked in to find three very sick people occupying the couches. How many times had he taken care of Addison when she was sick and Derek couldn't be bothered? Derek went straight to Meredith, embracing her and kissing her lips softly. She protested, saying that he would get sick as well, but he replied that he didn't mind.

Sage was wrapped in blankets, his golden skin flushed with sickness, and a mysterious protectiveness rose up in Mark. What about this boy made him want to be better, made him more of the man he'd always wanted to be? He tucked a corner of the blanket closer around the small body, trying to be inconspicuous about it, but he caught Addison watching him, and the expression in her eyes, though tinged with fierce caring, was mostly unreadable.

Even sick, copper curls mussed and tangled, she was still undeniably the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. Angelic. Seraphic. Perfect, but in a razor sharp, cutting way: he recognized the old t-shirt she was wearing, probably leftover from the times he'd stayed in her hotel room last time she'd been in Seattle.

Still, he felt sort of like a peeping tom when the sight of her legs, extending for miles out of the shirt, set his thoughts afire. That was wrong when she was sick, wasn't it? It was even more wrong in light of the fact that he had a girlfriend. But Mark couldn't make himself care.

"I brought you something," he said, holding out the white dish in his hand. Raspberry sorbet. Her favorite, when she was sick. He would know. Luckily, it hadn't melted too much. She tried to look uninterested, but her stomach gave her away, growling like an animal. He sat beside her, offering her the bowl of ice cream and then a spoon, trying not to think of how Addison looked while eating ice cream should be considered a crime. Her lips were berry red within seconds.

Mark tried to resist, to be good, but she was intoxicating. She leaned her tired head on his shoulder, and he shifted her legs so they rested on his lap. Addison didn't pull back, sickness always made her vulnerable. Meredith glanced at her, a smug expression in her eyes, but Mark was nonplussed.

"Got any more?" she asked when she'd cleaned out the bowl.

"I thought you were supposed to be sick," he asked, slightly amused but also to distract himself. Derek was studying Sage. At first Mark thought that the boy didn't warrant such a medical assessment, he clearly had the flu, but as Derek's gaze shifted to him, it was like he was comparing them.

"I _am _sick. And hungry. I -" Before she could finish the sentence, his cell phone rang. He answered it with out thinking, not realizing that all the people he could ever wish to talk to were right in front of him.

"Hello?"

"Mark?" Lexie said, sounding annoyed. "Where are you?"

"What do you mean, where am I?" he asked for lack of a better answer. He felt caught, like a cornered animal, despite the fact that he technically wasn't doing anything wrong.

Lexie's tone was probably meant to be pleasant, but the suspicion was too concentrated. "I just wanted to meet after work, so I need to know where you …"

Mark held the phone away from his ear. "Joe's or hospital?" he said, thinking aloud and trying to figure where he should say he was. Obviously he could not say Derek's house. Because surely Lexie knew that Addison and Sage were staying there, and he had avoided any discussion about his and Addison's past because it opened a Pandora's box of forbidden want and hidden pain.

"I'm at Joe's," he decided, hoping she was still at work. She didn't argue, so he figured she believed him. She said she was heading over to Joe's in a few minutes, which left him no choice to rush over so he would not be caught in a lie. It felt like he was relapsing, heading back to days were he juggled more lies than he could count. But this was different, Addison didn't want him, she just needed a friend. And he was there, yanked to her by their connection, she the planet, he the rotating moon. If he knew why she was really sick, he might feel guiltier about lying to Lexie, but he didn't. She was like a drug that he couldn't resist. _Just a little more._

He just needed one more minute.

* * *

**I can't really leave an author's note at the end. I'll just say things blow up next chapter. Like big, big explosions. **

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	13. Angels On The Moon

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**13. _Angels On The Moon_**

**School is out and I'm hella excited! Means lots of writing :D Angels On The Moon is a song by Thriving Ivory, btw.**

* * *

_Nine Years Ago: If Only_

_The streets were painted in morning dew, drenched in the smell of bread already baking, the vestiges of things done the night before under the heady enchantment of night fading quickly. A quick call to Naomi had summoned her friend and she stood, waiting and amused, in front of her and Addison's favorite little bakery. "Addison, you are going to be in so much trouble!" Naomi giggled as they ran through the streets of Greece to the villa._

"_I know!" Addison admitted with a shy smile. "I've never really done anything like this before. But you know what? I don't even care. Last night was … well, it was amazing, Nae!"_

"_So … did you sleep with mystery man?" Naomi giggled. "Last night is a complete blur, but I remember him being hot."_

"_No, I didn't," Addison lied quickly, but before her blush could give her away, the house came into view. The wooden trellis was just strong enough to support one of them at a time, and Naomi shimmied up quickly and disappeared through the window._

_Addison laid a hand on the rough, crisscrossing wood, preparing to climb, but first she looked back at the lower city one last time. _He _was down there, probably still asleep, and although she couldn't remember his face, had not looked at it in the morning light, tingles ran through her body as she recalled the feelings he'd summoned. Like he was a legend of old, born out of Greek myth._

_But that was silly, of course. He was probably just a regular guy, a guy who could date any girl he wanted, a guy with a life apart from her. She climbed._

_One hour, sixteen minutes, and four seconds later Addison burst through the front doors of the villa, accompanied by the shocked stares of the staff and a few loose chickens._

"_You are not going anywhere!" Addison's father yelled as he ran out after her. Her parents had begun interrogating her the second she tumbled in through the window, and while they questioned and prodded, furious, she'd changed her mind. She could not get him, whoever _he _was, out of her head. There was still a miniscule chance that he was there on the roof where she'd left him, and she was taking it._

"_Addison!" Bizzy's voice could cut through ice, and the second Addison heard it her heart sunk. She pushed through a pair of cooks carrying baskets only to find her arm stuck in her father's vice-like grip._

"_I'm not going with you!" she yelled in frustration as her father swung her around._

"_Addison -" he started in a furious voice, but Bizzy interrupted._

"_You listen to me! Don't you dare walk away!" she said as Addison once again tried to pull away to no avail. "I don't know where you've been all night but you need to get in that house right now!"_

"_No …" she breathed, staring out at the freedom of the brilliant azure sea and wondering if he was seeing it too. The fight was fought, her battle lost, because within a few hours he would be lost in the hustle and bustle of Santorini, never to be seen again._

_He had changed her, altered her past recognition. Love, or a hint of it, could do that to a person. But she was trapped in the confines she'd been born into; last night she'd ignored the rules and now she was paying. She would never see him again, no matter how much she desperately wished to._

_No matter if she'd changed her mind or not._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Mer, are you _crying_?" Derek asked as he deposited several bags of Mexican food onto the counter. He interrupted her reverie, in which some insurance company informed them they needed coverage by showing a blow-by-blow car crash, glass flying out the windows.

Meredith blinked and sniffed, startled. "No, it's just … sad," she said defensively. Sage had dove towards the food, but Addison was purposely avoiding looking at the TV; Meredith was sure that car crashes invoked shadowed, unwelcome memories for her, despite the fact that her son was vibrant and beautiful beside her.

"It's a commercial. There wasn't really a car crash," Derek told her. His expression suggested that she was slightly insane but that he loved her at the same time. He ran a hand through his coal black curls, disappearing into their room, probably to take a shower, she thought. He'd just gotten off a long shift.

Meredith was trying to decide whether to go for the delicious smelling food or sex in the shower with Derek when her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered without checking the number.

"Jeez, finally you answer your phone," an annoyed voice snapped, and Meredith pictured Cristina stomping around Seattle Grace in her periwinkle scrubs, cursing her for not picking up. "I can't believe you replaced me with Satan. Do you need me to come rescue you? Because I can, Owen is working and there are no traumas and no surgeries and no _nothing _here, just Izzie trying to talk to me about dresses and wedding details."

Meredith heard a muffled, "Hey!" that sounded exactly like Izzie. "This is her wedding with McDreamy, Cristina, and you're the maid of honor."

"Like I care," Cristina said. "Mer, whatever you do, avoid this hospital like the plague whether you're still sick or not because Izzie wants to know who your bridesmaids are and practically every other detail in the universe …"

Her wedding … Meredith supposed she ought to be a little bit more involved in the planning. But it wasn't the wedding she was looking forward to; it was having Derek by her side, guaranteed, forever and ever and ever. The wedding was just a day. She wanted to invest in a lifetime.

"Mom, can I have some of that?" Sage asked, eying Addison's burrito while Meredith listened to Izzie and Cristina argue over the phone. She couldn't get a work in edgewise, and she was pretty sure she heard Bailey in the background, trying to get their attention.

"No, honey, you have a quesadilla," Addison said, moving her burrito slightly away from him protectively.

"But Mom, I already ate it and you already had an _entire _burrito. And you ate my chips and drank my soda. And I was so hungry!" he complained sadly, with a heartbreaking look on his face. With his peacock colored eyes as wide as they would go, he looked like a Botticelli angel, gorgeousness etched into every plane of his face.

Addison made the mistake of catching his expression and caved. "Okay, okay, fine. You can have some of Derek's; he left it on the counter over there. Or you can have some ice cream."

"It's just a wedding!" Cristina screamed at Izzie, still having not hung up the phone.

"Yeah, this is like the most important day of Mer's life!" Izzie argued back.

Annoyance bubbled up inside her, although where exactly it derived from, she had no idea. "Will all of you please shut up for a minute!" she yelled, and an absolute, fragile silence followed. Addison and Sage both had a hand on the burrito, and she could picture Cristina staring incredulously at the phone, and even Izzie had apparently heard because she had stopped arguing as well.

"God, Mer, if you have PMS you should have just said so," Cristina finally said. Something about that statement tugged at the edges of her consciousness, and she frowned as Cristina continued talking. There was something about her wild, volatile emotions lately, and the hunger, and the sickness and … oh. Oh duh.

"Oh my god," Meredith muttered, shock sitting like a block of ice in her stomach. There was a clatter as the phone hit the floor, and both Addison and Sage turned quickly, almost comically, but it was too late: she was running at a full sprint toward the bedroom into which Derek had vanished.

Derek had just stepped out of the shower and water droplets clung to every line of his body, except what was hidden by the ink blue towel around his waist. "Mer? What?" was all he was able to get out before she crashed into him, knocking him backward and getting them both wet in the process.

"I … I – I," she stuttered, but the words wouldn't come. This was about to alter their entire existence, about to cut all the strings that tied them to who they were and rearrange them. Because they wouldn't be Derek and Meredith anymore, they'd be Derek and Meredith and … _somebody else_. A little person, barely formed, but, she was sure, growing inside her. For the first time since her realization, joy stained her shock, blooming across it in brightly colored blotches.

"What is it?" Derek asked, cupping her face in his hands. He kissed her nose gently, the droplets on his upper lip transferred to her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs, caressing her face gently. "Are you okay?" _Derek. _This was Derek. She could tell him anything.

Meredith took a deep breath, preparing to transform them forever. He'd been asking about babies, she reminded herself. She'd told Addison not too long ago that she wanted a child. "I'm pretty sure that I'm pregnant, Derek."

Whatever Derek had been about to say was lost, erased in the face of her news. What replaced it was infinitely better. She thought she knew the meaning of the world jubilant, and what that would look like, but she did not until she saw Derek's face at that moment. "You mean," he asked, "I'm a Daddy?"

He did not wait for an answer, but instead slid his arms around her waist and spun her around and around and around … "Well, I'm not absolutely sure," she finally said when he released her, still looking like he'd received the best news of his existence. "I should probably take a test before we celebrate too much."

"Kay," he answered, but he wasn't really listening, instead his hands moved to her stomach, roaming over the ribbed pattern of her tank top, searching for proof that their child existed.

"Derek," she laughed, "there is no bump yet," she laughed. "I'm not _that_ pregnant. There's no bump." _Pregnant. _She was pregnant and in less than nine months, she and Derek would be parents. Wonder filled her, but it was accompanied by trepidation. Could they do this? No, she knew Derek could, but could she? Could she be a better mother to her baby than Ellis was to her?

Then Addison's words came back to her._ "I'm just going to try to give Sage the childhood I always wanted but never had," _she had said. Well, she could do that, couldn't she? Provide for her baby the happy family she'd always secretly desired but had been unable to attain?

Addison. Meredith froze, body stiffening in Derek's arms as she remembered that Addison was sitting at their counter, able to hear every word they were saying. Addison, who was supposedly infertile. Addison, who had eaten even more than Meredith, even during her worst cravings. Addison, who had watched movies with her on the couch while they took turns being sick.

"So … we should go to the store and get a test?" Derek asked, already digging through various pairs of jeans to find his keys. "Mer?"

"I think we're going to need two," she said faintly. The situation in this house was sure going to get interesting.

"What?" Derek asked. "Why … oh. Addison."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

In retrospect, she should have recognized the symptoms.

But she didn't think, couldn't even fathom until she heard, a floor and a few rooms away, Meredith utter the word _pregnant. _And if Meredith's incessant hunger turned to be pregnancy cravings, and the illness was actually morning sickness, and her irritability and tiredness was being caused by hormones, then what did that mean for her? They had held each other's hair over the toilet, fell asleep side by side on the couch, watching over Sage, and shared whatever food they could get their hands on.

Before she could even wrap her mind around even a fragment of such a wondrous, enticing, intoxicating idea, Meredith flew down the stairs, Derek behind her. Sage, her son, knew none of this; he had left to play his Wii in the other room a few minutes ago, and was completely oblivious to the fact that he might have a sibling …

"Addison?" Meredith asked, caution saturating her voice.

"Addie?" Derek echoed, and she saw, by the expression in his clear blue eyes, that he knew she had heard them and now she was terrified. And that he knew what had happened that night in the club, when Mark's seed had taken root and now, a little over two months later, was finally presenting her with another life altering realization.

"Derek and I are going to buy a pregnancy test, Addison," Meredith said softly. "Do you need one too? Because if I was pregnant all that time …" she left the end of her sentence open, because it was so easily filled in.

She didn't answer. Couldn't.

_Mark._

They left with sympathetic, apologetic looks, trying to disguise their joy behind concern, but it couldn't be done. Then she was left alone with only the sound of her own heart.

"Addison?" Meredith asked again, twenty minutes later. Funny. She hadn't heard the door open. The white paper bag was ominous, although she didn't really need it. She knew.

Addison's face was pale, pallid, cold, nearly lifeless when she examined it in the mirror. With shaking hands she pulled down the loose plaid pajama pants borrowed from Derek, they pooled around her ankles. Her body seemed too fragile, too breakable as she lowered herself down onto the toilet. It felt as though Fortune were laughing somewhere, having a grand old time.

She could barely pull her pants back up as she waited for the result. Tick, tock.

Double lines sealed her fate.

No. It _couldn't _be. She'd given this up, her most impossible dream. It had been too late, all chances gone, her life wasted, the opportunity to have another child, a baby, lost. And yet it seemed that one grew inside her at the most inopportune moment. When she was so lost that some night she woke up, unable to remember where she was. When she discovered that her other child, her son, was alive after all, and she had to piece together, day by day, that frightening yet wonderful concept of motherhood. When Mark had a girlfriend, and didn't want her anymore. _Mark's _child. She was carrying Mark's child.

There had been so many years, an almost endless stretch of time, in fact, for Derek to get her pregnant. And yet, in the few short times she'd spent with Mark by her side, igniting fires she didn't know existed, she'd gotten pregnant twice.

_Mark._

The first time, pregnancy had been soaked with utter panic. She was married, left alone, and Mark cheated … and she had thought herself unworthy of a child in the face of all she'd done, the black situation she was in. Plus, she had never wanted any child but Sage.

Of course, she regretted it after. She started crying the second she boarded the plane and sobbed through never-ending states and cloud capped mountains. Somehow she'd pulled herself together to see Derek again, and meet his intern girlfriend. But she could never keep her thoughts away from a child she would never see, a child who might have been a comfort in the lonely city.

Now she had two kids, more than she'd ever suspected after Naomi revealed her disappointing fertility results. Could something have gone wrong with those tests, could they have been mixed up? Or was this baby a random whim of Chance, a lucky little miracle that by all rights should not exist?

She wondered whether the baby would share Sage's perfectly carved cheekbones, or the vivid shade of his hair, or his sprightly manner. It was foolish to imagine sharing such a life with Mark, but maybe she could build some sort of happiness with her two children, though they would both lack fathers. Or maybe Mark would visit on weekends, when he wasn't with Lexie … the thought was like strangling her heart with barbed wire.

She could do this, if Mark was there. But without him, she wasn't sure.

How long had it been since she slept with him? Nine weeks now? Her 1 inch baby, the size of a grape, was swimming gleefully in her now-cantaloupe sized uterus. It had budding arms and legs, and a connection with her via placenta. He or she had a four-chambered, beating heart. A brain. Hair follicles. Developing eye color. Would the baby have Mark's sky colored eyes, eyes that hinted at wonderland, eyes that drew you in so far you were lost before resistance even entered your mind?

Her phone rang, vibrating against the cold bathroom tile. She fished it out of her pocket. When she saw the number, her smile turned feral. Just who she'd been wanting to talk to.

"I hate you!" she screamed into the phone when Naomi greeted her.

"Jeez, Addison, I was just calling to check up on you and Sage," Naomi said, clearly offended by Addison's tone. Addison had called to extend her leave of absence once she found out about Sage, and Naomi was nearly as excited as Addison was herself.

But now her predicament was much more grave, and there was blame to be placed. "You said it was impossible!" she yelled. You said it could never happen! You lied, and now this mess I'm in is _all your fucking fault!_"

"What the hell are you talking about, Addison? Oh, and don't hold back, by the way. Just continue on screaming," Naomi snapped back at her.

Addison felt pleased by her reaction; like Meredith had experienced earlier, the explosive emotions of pregnancy were nigh impossible to contain. "I'M TALKING ABOUT YOUR DAMN TEST RESULTS! Obviously, even though you're a doctor, you don't know what you're FREAKING TALKING ABOUT!" There was silence on the other end, Naomi was clearly trying to figure out her comments. It didn't take long before Addison heard a gasp. "Thanks a whole fucking lot," she whispered to the silent Naomi.

"Addie, are you seriously … seriously pregnant? I … I'm shocked. I really, truly thought that it couldn't happen."

"Well I guess you were wrong," she retorted in a biting voice.

"But, Addison … aren't you happy? This is kind of a miracle," Naomi said in a wondering voice.

Addison yelled, her wordless scream burning her throat. "I already have one unexpected kid to take care of, Naomi! In case you hadn't noticed, I'm already way over my head here. I'm completely alone, and I'm about to have two kids, one of them a helpless baby that needs attention every second! I don't have the time or the luxury to even _think _about being happy right now!"

There was a pause. "Who got you pregnant, Addison? Whose baby is it?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Naomi."

"Whose baby?" was her only reply. When Addison didn't answer, she continued, "Listen, Addie, I know this must be a huge surprise, especially since you just found Sage. But I was there the first time, remember? Come back down here, and we'll work everything out. Violet's about to have her baby. Think about it." The line disconnected.

She'd lied about being happy. Because secretly, she was. Warmth blossomed through her lower belly as she realized she'd get to experience everything she'd missed with Sage. The harmony between mother and baby; being the first to hold her newborn child. There was happiness; it was just intermixed in with a whole lot of shock and trepidation.

The information dancing tantalizingly out of her grip was that, unbeknownst to her, was that this was the third time she'd gotten pregnant by Mark, not the second.

She and Mark had come full circle, although neither knew it.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Something had changed, Sage thought as he peered cautiously around the door, observing the situation. Something had changed, something intangible to him but so obviously real. It seeped through the house, pulling him away from his game, warning him, cautioning him, like his extra sense sometimes did. Whatever it was, it probably explained some things. Like why Meredith and Derek were seemingly bursting with joy, dancing around the small house like it was Christmas. Or why his mother sat, still as a stone, worry practically burning a hole through the chair she slumped in, still shocked.

Meredith and Derek, something white clutched in the former's hand, took their celebration deeper into the house, ascending up the stairs, occasionally casting anxious glances down at his mother who had still not moved.

"Mom?" he called, extending a hand toward her as he hurried to her side. "Mom?" She gave a little start, as if she'd only just noticed him, and stared at him with blank ocean-colored eyes. "Mom, what's wrong?"

It seemed to take an answer to drag even the simplest answer from her, like a dentist extracting unwilling teeth, but finally she spoke. "Nothing's _wrong_, exactly," she said in no more than a whisper. "It's just – I don't – I think …" she trailed off, apparently unable to finish. "Never mind," she finally said. "It's nothing."

It wasn't nothing, of course, in fact it was the farthest thing from nothing, but he sensed that she would, at least for the moment, refuse to say anything more on the subject. It was strange, his mother's stunned silence contrasted with Derek and Meredith's exuberance. He couldn't think of anything, at least not anything that could have happened in a few minutes, that could have changed events so quickly.

But Addison pulled him against her chest, hugging him close and reminding him of times spent in the hospital, drawing comfort from each other. She smelled of vanilla and perfume and something else faint and comforting, apple, maybe, or home. "You know that whatever happens I love you, right?" she murmured into his hair. "Always have, always will."

"I love you too," he told her, and it was an inadequate remedy for whatever troubled her, a mere band-aid for a gaping bullet hole, but he thought as she pulled him closer that it might have made some microscopic difference.

"Things are going to change soon, Sage. Me and you … we're going to go back to LA for a little while, so I can deliver a friend's baby. We can come back here, move back here afterwards, if that's what you still want. There are certain things … that tie me to Seattle now, and it wouldn't be, uh, fair, I guess, of me to leave." Her words only complicated the convoluted puzzle that he was unable to assess.

"Okay," he said. "But after we go to LA we have to come back. We _belong _here. I can feel it," he said earnestly, trying to convey his feelings to her across empty air. She appraised him, noticing the feverish look in his eyes, the determination in the set of his chin.

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" she asked with a chuckle. "My son, the genius. I don't know where you got your special little ability, but if it allowed you to find me out of the six billion people in the world … then I believe you. But first LA ."

"I've never been on a plane before," he told her with a grin, managing to summon a small smile from her depths of despair. "But a boy at the home told me there's castles made of clouds."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She was just coming out Richard's office when he spotted her, on the day that changed everything. Attuned to her as he was, Mark immediately registered a slight difference, a change in the ethereal glow of integrity, kindness, an beauty that she was always swathed in.

He was powerless to resist the smile that spread across his face the instant he saw her. It wasn't just that he loved her, although he did, impossible and forbidden as that love was. It was that besides Derek, she was pretty much his only friend. Sure, they had a minefield of a past, cuttingly painful at times, but he was there when she needed him. And, he thought if it came down to it, she would be there if he needed her too.

"Hey, Adds," Mark said when she nearly ran into him, distraction making her uncharacteristically clumsy. He reached out automatically to steady her, and his fingers brushed the sharp angle made by her elbow, sending a tingle throughout his entire body.

"Please don't touch me," she begged, her voice sheer and thin, pulling away quickly. Her skin was ice cold, as if someone had sucked all the life out of her.

"Addie – what?" he asked, unable to pretend her rejection hadn't hurt him. Salvation existed in her skin, and even if he could never have her, he would take whatever tiny fragments he could get.

"You have a girlfriend, Mark. You said you're different, you said you've changed – then prove it. You wanted her, not me, so stick with your decision for once." He could feel the walls ascending as she built them up, despite the fact that he had no idea what was driving such a reaction. What had changed, in so short a time?

Addison's arms hovered protectively around herself, flitting around her torso as if she was trying to resist physically holding herself together. There was a strange pain present in her eyes, like she'd been abandoned, but he couldn't understand because he was _standing right here …_

"You can't just do that, you can't close yourself off, because _I don't know what's fucking wrong_!" he said, frustrated that he couldn't see beyond her mask to the true problem. Mark was always there, always willing, and yet she pulled back and forth and he loved her but it was killing him.

"You know what's wrong, Mark!? I'm fucking tired, that's what's wrong. I can't _do _this on my own, I just can't but I don't have any choice. And you're there but you have your girlfriend and I can't stand looking at you everyday and knowing that …" She trailed off, as if there were sacred words she, for some reason, could not say …

"Knowing _what_, Addison? See, this is your problem. You just can't let anyone in. I can't help you if I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I don't need your help!" she snapped, the bitter fragments in her voice picking at partially healed wounds.

"Well, fine!" he retorted, incensed. It infuriated him that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't penetrate her glass bubble, couldn't break it or puncture it or melt it. He loved her, but it was destroying him, ruining him from the inside out.

"And I don't need you either!" she continued, fists clenched. He usually found angry Addie sexy, but there was something alarming about this dark rage. For once he was unsure how to calm her down, so he responded in turn, lashing out to hurt her as she had hurt him.

"Well, I'm not surprised because according to you, you never have. You never loved me, never wanted me, never wanted to be with me. So why don't you just _get out of my life_!"

"Good. Fine. I'm gone," she said, a slightly perverse pleasure on her face from his reaction.

He regretted his words the instant she turned to leave. "Wait. Addie, wait. Just talk to me, please," he called after her. He didn't know what he was supposed to have done but she clearly needed him, needed someone …

"You would hate me if you knew." The hospital doors slammed shut behind her.

He wanted to say he could never hate her. But of course she wouldn't let him.

* * *

**Well, we have two babies on the way! I bet some of you have been suspecting that for a while, though. This story will not be focused so much on Addison and Meredith's pregnancies as the relationships and still hidden secrets between the characters, however. And there will be a bit with Addie and Sage in LA, because I think Addison needs some closure there.**

* * *


	14. Fall Away

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**14. _Fall Away_**

_Eight Years Ago: A Morning Epiphany_

_Thirty-two year old Maryse Roberts sighed as once again a shrill cry rose from inside the home. Abandoning her lukewarm tea, she pushed her bulky form to her feet, heading through depilated but cheerfully sunlit rooms until she reached the nursery. There she walked through rows of rusted, dented cribs until she found the source of the wailing: the newest addition to the Boys Home, only arrived the night before and still nameless._

_Maryse picked the baby up, noticing his shock of bright crimson hair as she did. Every other boy possessed shades from whitest blonde to darkest obsidian, with various tawny shades in-between. But this baby boy shone brighter than all of them, and he quieted in her arms as she bounced him gently._

_Every time she tried to place him back in his crib, however, his brilliant green eyes filled with tears and his tiny hands clutched at her shirt. Desperate for a little human contact, she supposed. It was clear that, with so few workers, they could not give every child the love and attention that they needed and desired, but they all did their best._

_Maryse was possessed by a sudden rush of sympathy for the abandoned child. How any woman could give away so precious a baby she couldn't understand, but then, who was she to judge? The little boy looked to be around two months old, they'd been told he'd been kept in the hospital because of an ugly, grievous car crash that had come close to killing him._

"_Shh," Maryse cooed to him. "Shh, child, shush." The mid-February morning, though crisp and clear, was not as chilly as the time of year might suggest. Green hills surrounded the children's humble abode, and though the surrounding grounds did not indicate an unpleasant place to grow up, it was people rather than surroundings that were able to truly nurture a child. A kid could be spoiled and up to their neck in riches but unhappy if ignored, while children in poorer countries but with caring families were often found to be happier._

"_What are we going to name you, sir?" she asked the baby, tucking his powder blue blanket tighter around his tiny form. With so many boys running around, all the common names, the ones that were summoned most easily to her head, were all taken. They already had a John, an Evan, a Joseph, a Michael, a Matthew. Maryse cast her eyes around the landscape for inspiring ideas and her eyes settled on the sage plant growing near the front porch._

"_Sage," she said, trying it out. "You like that? You like that, Sage Green?"_

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The sun beat down on the city of angels as Addison and Sage walked toward a large brick building. Addison clutched his hand tightly, and he was going to protest that he was eight and he didn't need his hand held before catching her expression. It was of great and terrible sorrow, worry beyond his imagining, and he couldn't deny her the small comfort of holding his hand once he saw it.

Their journey through SeaTac airport had been surreal; Sage had never seen so many people in his life, and LAX was even bigger. But his mother hardly said a word the entire time, dwelling on whatever thoughts were invoking so disturbed a silence. They waited in line at their gate, gave their passports to the guard, walked through a tunnel and onto the plane, where they located their first class seats and his mother gave him the window. And then before he knew it, Seattle was shrinking beneath him, cars were reduced to mere toys and then ants and specs of color until they were out of his site completely.

Addison closed her eyes, tucking the blanket over her lap and sitting completely still until her breathing evened out, her hand resting on her stomach. Sage watched cloud formations for a while, their delicate tendrils twisting through the brilliant azure sky, until he became bored enough to attempt sleep also.

He was frightened as the plane touched the earth again with a jolt, but his mother looked so tired with purple circles decorating her eyes that he didn't want to wake her and bother her with his troubles. They took a taxi to the building in which his mother worked, and for some reason his heart beat as fast as the day that half his parentage had been unearthed. He had been a part of Addison's life in Seattle, but the world that awaited them in LA was alien, the dynamic completely different.

The office was bright, cheery, and sunlit, with patients smiling and chatting and looking, in general, fairly happy. Leafy plants were placed every few feet, the walls were sunshiny yellow, but it was a place that he couldn't fit himself into, a place where secrets were not revealed because they did not exist in the first place.

Addison finally relinquished his hand as she fell into the arms of an attractive chocolate skinned woman with thick black curls. Sage backed up, swallowing uncomfortably, figuring that it must have been Naomi but too shy to ask. His mother had succumbed to sobs and was staining the woman's maroon shirt. Feeling invisible, Sage wandered a bit until he found her office.

Addison Forbes Montgomery, M.D., it said. Sage traced each silvery letter with a shaking finger, trying to picture his mother working here. She fit so seamlessly at Seattle Grace with Mark and Derek and Meredith and Callie that it was hard to imagine.

"Is this him?" asked an unfamiliar voice behind him, and he turned to see the dark skinned woman staring at him.

"Yes," said Addison with a sniff. "This is Sage, my son. Sage, this is my friend Naomi."

"He looks just like you!" Naomi squealed, releasing Addison and scrutinizing his face quickly. "But he also looks kinda like … uh, never mind. Addie, we need to talk.

"Who are we talking about?" a male voice asked, and Sage saw reflected in the glass a curly haired woman and a friendly-looking brown-haired man approach.

"You didn't tell them?" Addison asked from behind them.

"I thought you would want to," Naomi protested.

"What the hell are we talking about, anyway?" a small blonde woman asked as she joined them.

"Addie, you're back!" a delighted voice cried, and Addison was embraced by a dark-skinned man. Sage continued tracing letters, one after another and another and another …

"Hey, Addison," another man said. He kind of reminded Sage of a hippie. "Who is that?"

Sage whirled around, wide celery eyes taking in the small crowd in front of him, and there was a collective gasp. He supposed they had instantly picked up on the similarity between his and his mother's features, but he couldn't help feeling lost in the midst of so much unfamiliarity.

"He looks just like you," the curly haired woman breathed.

"I didn't know you had a kid," the friendly looking brown haired man commented.

"But – no," the dark skinned man stuttered. "It can't be."

"Looks like it could be," the blonde woman countered in an acerbic voice.

"But, Addison," the hippie man asked. "How is this possible?"

"It is," Naomi assured him.

"You knew?" the dark skinned man asked disbelievingly. "And you didn't tell me? Why am I always the last to know everything?"

"Everyone!" Addison said loudly. "First of all, shut up. Second, this is my son, Sage. Sage, this is Sam, Violet, Charlotte, Pete, and Cooper. Dell is around here somewhere. Eight years ago, I was told that Sage died when I was in a car crash, but he didn't."

"I can't believe it," Sam said, hurrying over and sticking out his hand for Sage to shake, who took it tentatively.

"Welcome to Oceanside Wellness, Sage," Violet said.

"Um, thanks," he muttered, not sure what else he was supposed to say. Two girls appeared, one with mocha skin who looked about his age, and the other smaller, with cinnamon colored hair and bright blue eyes. "Hi," they both said at the same time.

"Maya, Betsy, this is Sage, Addison's son. Be nice," Naomi said warningly. The two girls grinned evilly. His mother engaged Naomi in conversation, and Sage wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Meredith fought down a groan as she watched people milling throughout her house. She reluctantly recalled Izzie's ecstatic excitement, Cristina's shocked disbelief, and Lexie's uncertain joy when she revealed to them that she was pregnant. Somehow that had paved a path for one of Izzie's overdone, stranger-attracting parties in her house. And worst of all, she suspected Derek was hiding because she couldn't find him anywhere.

'_Congratulations on the McBaby_!' a sign on her front door read. Meredith wondered what people would say if they discovered there were technically going to be _two _McBabies, assuming Addison was pregnant by Mark, which she had alluded to. Sighing, she lifted a hand to begin tearing the ridiculous piece of paper down.

"Mer, what are you doing?" Izzie scolded when she appeared around the corner.

"Look, Iz. I appreciate all you've done, but this isn't really what I …" Meredith began, but Izzie cut across her.

"Mer, it's okay to give up dark and twisty and be happy. You're having a baby. That's amazing. Just enjoy your time with … where is Derek, anyway?" Izzie asked with a sudden frown, considering this new flaw in her otherwise perfect party.

"I saw him sneaking outside," Lexie told them as she approached the two. "I could call Mark and have him -"

"Lex, can I talk to you for a minute?" Meredith asked, making a snap decision. Lexie frowned quizzically but followed her a few steps away until they were obscured from general view by a shadowy alcove. "I just … well … I wanted to ask you about … Mark."

"What about Mark?" Lexie asked, and her dreamy smile filled Meredith with foreboding.

"I just don't want to see you hurt," Meredith said cautiously. "What exactly has Mark told you about his past?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lexie snapped.

"He hasn't told you anything," Meredith realized in a wondrous voice.

"Mark said he's never really been in love with anyone before, not that it's any of your business," Lexie retorted.

"He's lying," Meredith revealed in a low voice.

"How do you know that?" Lexie demanded.

"This won't end well," Meredith predicted. "No offense, Lex, but apparently there's a lot Mark hasn't told you. I've known him a lot longer, and, well, maybe you should talk to him." Meredith sighed, remembering her own tangled love mess of a few years ago, and slipped deeper into the celebrating people, searching for the love of her life.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He was fairly sure that he reeked of cheap perfume, alcohol, and unrestrained, unforgivable lust, and he was nearly as certain that Lexie would notice it, as well as notice that he was nearly passed out on the oatmeal colored carpet. Mark had never exactly been nostalgic for the old days when he woke up in a stranger's house every morning; it was pain that pushed him to seek release in meaningless sex with whatever women he could persuade into bed with him.

He was pretty sure that he had met her at Joe's, but Mark couldn't account for much more of what had happened. There had been a woman, he knew that. Silky brunette hair, stormy grey eyes, great ass, a body to die for. They'd thrusted around in the sheets for a few hours, both seeking the most feral, primal type of release short of killing in the other, and then the thrill was over and the guilt sat in.

Mark had practically ran from her apartment and her face, innocent in sleep. She didn't deserve to have his miserable, screwed up life inflicted on her more than she already had. She was probably a nice girl, with family and friends who loved her. He had probably been like that once, but if he had, the memories eluded him with vigor, hiding in places his drunken mind couldn't reach.

There was a jingling and a key turned in the lock, and Mark's lips brushed against the carpet as he cussed. He hadn't expected Lexie to come to his apartment tonight, and there was no way for him to know of her conversation with Meredith.

"Mark?" she called, and he winced as her whine grated against the rough, drunk edges of his brain. He couldn't answer, but it didn't matter, he knew she would find him. "Mark!" Lexie's voice yelled, from closer this time, and then he was met with a dizzy sensation as small hands rotated him onto his back.

"You're drunk," Lexie whispered. He didn't answer, it was the understatement of the century and so obvious it neither necessitated nor merited a reply. "Why are you like this? I mean, I've seen you drunk, but …"

He ignored her. Instead, the last glimpse he'd gotten of Addison's face danced before his eyes. She always hovered just a few mere inches out of his grasp, but how to bridge that distance, covered in icy tones and sharp regrets he was never sure. Addison wouldn't annoy him. Addison would lay right down next to him and cradle his head until the hangover passed. As if to prove Addison and Lexie's polar personalities, his girlfriend continued, "What the fuck are you doing, Mark? This isn't the guy I know.

"This is the real me," he said, choking over the laughs forming in his throat. "Sorry if you can't handle it, babe."

"You're an ass," Lexie said incredulously, like this was new information to her, which if it was, she was the last to know.

"No shit," he replied.

"I defended you," she said. "I defended you and our relationship … and this is what I get?"

Bile rose inside him and he disregarded her as he pulled himself to the bathroom. The tile was cool against his forehead, affording him some modicum of peace in his relative nightmare as he lost his dinner and probably his lunch as well.

"Just go," he grunted at Lexie as she continued spewing various reprimands at him. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered except Addison and her redheaded son and they had left for Los Angeles and he didn't know if they were ever returning to stitch up his heart again.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Ocher sunlight spilled out through the house she had not been present in for over two months. It was as tranquil and serene as always, with an ocean backdrop illuminating the open hallways and buttery colors. It was a beautiful house, but it wasn't and had never been home.

Sage, Maya, and Naomi filed in behind her, they all having escaped the curious interrogations of the other Oceansiders, and Sage put every inch of the house under intense scrutiny as they entered. Addison could sense Naomi waiting to corner her and unearth some answers about the baby growing inside her, so she settled her son and Maya on the couch and put on the movie Bedtime Stories for them to watch. Naomi made macaroni out of a box and within no time the two kids were arguing happily about the characters.

"So," Naomi said as they leaned against the counter and watched. She was sipping a glass of mulberry colored wine while Addison eyed it enviously. Her stomach rumbled, so she dipped the spoon back into the macaroni and ate the warm, cheesy noodles straight out of the pan.

"So," Addison repeated. She so did _not _want to have this conversation because she hated divulge her secrets so others could dissect and judge them. Further more, it was fine when the baby was a secret hidden deep inside her body but once her friends started to find out, the panic would surely set in, wrapping her in repressive arms and hinting at things she was not ready for.

"Just spill," Naomi sighed, but when Addison wasn't forthcoming she added, "Look. You and I both know that there's only a few potential fathers for this baby. You said you were nine weeks pregnant, so you definitely got knocked up while in Seattle. I'm sincerely hoping it isn't Derek, which seems unlikely with him being engaged and all, and I doubt that it's that one intern you told me about, so that leaves … Mark."

Addison laughed humorlessly. "Is it that obvious?"

"I just know you too well," Naomi countered with a coy smile. "Does he know?"

"Mark? Mark has a girlfriend."

"No, Sage," Naomi corrected, nodding over to where her son lay curled on her couch and Maya already slept.

"No, I don't know how to tell him," Addison admitted. "I mean, I just found out he's alive and now I'm going to have another kid as well, and I just … how the hell am I supposed to do this, Naomi?"

"Remember what I told you the first time you came to LA? That I wished I had done things a little more like you? So, you don't have the perfect, cookie-cutter life. You may be a mess, but Addison? At least you're living," Naomi pointed out. "Now go tell your son."

"Sage?" Addison called as she made her way over the couch. The TV displayed the DVD's menu, and Maya's head was supported by a bunched up pillow, her russet skin dark against the buttermilk colored couch. Sage was curled up also, but his eyes were open, reflecting the sinking sun.

"Hmm?" he asked, assembling a blinding bright smile just for her.

"I need to talk to you," she whispered, her hand twitching automatically toward her stomach. Though he was clearly drowning in slumber, Sage followed her out to the back deck, where she pulled up her skirt and he his plaid pajama pants to sink their feet into the sand, blue in the dusky twilight.

Sage was intelligent, she was sure he had noticed something amiss, but she suspected he couldn't have guessed at the real reason, having grown up in a house full of boys. He cocked his head, sunlight glinting off his sculpted features and she sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"You know I love you no matter what, right?" she sought to assure.

"What is it, Mom?" Sage asked, voice soft in the coming night, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the rising stars. "I used to pretend I was Peter Pan, or one of the Lost Boys, and that I would never, ever grow up," he told her. "I don't want to grow up because you're so sad all the time."

"I'm not sad, exactly. It's just that there's been a lot going on and I'm …" She inhaled deeply, not possessing a clue how he would deal with this new knowledge. "Having a baby," she told him.

Her son's mouth dropped open in shock and his eyes snapped to her stomach, where her hand still rested. "A baby?" he asked, as if he had never heard of such a thing before. "So I'm going to have a little brother or sister?" She _thought _that was delight in his voice, but she couldn't be sure.

"Yeah. But Sage, what you have to understand is that it's just going to be the three of us," Addison admitted.

"What about the father?" Sage asked, and she couldn't keep a bemused expression off her face. "Mom, I'm eight years old, and I'm not stupid," he laughed. "Boys at the home talked. I know how babies are made." He wrinkled his nose as he said so, and she imagined that he was banishing unpleasant images.

"The father … Sage, I don't think I'm ready to tell you that, and I don't think it's appropriate anyway. You're only eight," she said, giving him a fond smile. But she couldn't help but wonder … if Naomi had guessed so effortlessly who it was, it wouldn't take such a stretch for others to guess as well. She was simply experiencing the calm before the storm.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Oh, so you weren't hiding after all," a voice filled with laughter said behind me, and I turned to find Meredith with a glass of water and a grin in regard to the half-set table.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," I complained as I placed in the silverware in their correct positions, careful not to trail my sleeve into the brilliantly burning candle. Meredith rolled her eyes and settled into one of the chairs, peeking around me to see what food I had. "Sorry, nothing special," I apologized. "Just those spicy buffalo wings Izzie brought, and a bottle of sparkling cider I stole from inside."

"That's all right," she said. "I'm not really one for gourmet anyway, and your child is starving."

"So, when do you think we …" he asked, trailing off suggestively. He had wanted a child almost more than anything besides marrying Mer, but they'd been careful, cautious, prepared to wait …

"I don't know," Meredith said, brow furrowing adorably as she thought. "Our engagement night, maybe?"

"No, we had the cherry flavored condoms then," he reminded her.

"How could I forget?" she laughed in response. "Okay, um … how about that day in the on-call room. Afterward I had this feeling like I was forgetting something …"

"Yeah, that must have been it, because I think we were really careful all those other times … wow, that means you're like nine weeks pregnant. Very astute, doctor," he teased. "Oh, I forgot to tell you Addison called. She and Sage arrived in LA safely."

"Do you think she's okay?" Meredith asked as she reached for the chicken.

"I … I don't know. It's Addison, so I think she'd be fine, but so much has happened to her that I just don't know."

"Do you know whose … whose baby she's having?"

"Do _you_?"

"I don't know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea," Meredith said, her eyes teasing.

"Yeah, I know," Derek said. "I heard Mark and Addison that night in Joe's, and I could tell it was them. Addison's quite loud. That was before I knew he was with Lexie. How did you know?"

"Addison told me she slept with Mark again. And I know she still cares about him, and I think he loves her too, but neither of them will admit it. I feel bad, because of Lexie, but it's obvious to everyone but them. And last time Addison was here, she said something to me, told me not to let you go, so I guess I feel like we should help them out."

Derek sighed, gazing up at the moon that bathed them in light. Sound still spilled out from the house from the party inside, but out here they had their own private oasis of peacefulness. "There's certain things they need to work out for themselves, and things will never be right between them until they do," he said.

"What certain things do you mean, exactly?"

"Just things. I would tell you, Mer, I really would, but I can't."

"We got our happily ever after, Derek. And I know it's hard to forget what Mark did to you, but the truth is that they deserve theirs too."

"You want to play cupid?" he teased. "I never took you for the matchmaker type."

"Well, I have everything I ever wanted, so I might as well help others have that too," Meredith said as she leaned across the tablet to kiss him, the chicken long forgotten.

* * *

**Well, I hope everyone is having an excellent summer! The song Fall Away is by the Fray, who are one of my fav bands ever. I have to work out whether Sage and Addie will still be in LA next chapter. I'm thinking yes, so we can get the full Oceanside experience, but we'll see. Anyway, I hope you liked it, and tell me what you thought :)**

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	15. Fireflies

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**15. _Fireflies_**

**Sorry, this is way overdue, and it isn't my best, but at this point it just needed to be updated. Thanks to Echante for kicking my butt to get this out, although it's way later than I promised. Song is Fireflies by Owl City. I'm kind of obsessed with their new CD.**

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_Eight Years Ago: An Ultimatum_

_The only sound that could be heard the austere Montgomery dining room was the clinking of forks and knives as the steak was cut in silence. She hadn't expected her first dinner with Derek and her parents to go _well, _exactly, but this was worse than she imagined. Addison was seated across from Derek, and she kept glancing up to see what he thought of all this but he kept his gaze on his plate, a slight smile on his face._

"_So," Addison's father rumbled when the silence had become too heavy to bear. "What is it exactly that you do, Derek?"_

_Derek looked up, his expression amused. "I'm in Med School also, surely Addison told you that?"_

_Bizzy sniffed, throwing Addison a chagrined look that she found unwarranted. Just the night before, when they had arrived, her mother had called Derek 'homely' and went on and on about how a small town boy with no money to speak of could ever be good enough for her. So it was no wonder to Addison that she never willingly unearthed details of her life in Bizzy's presence, such as the growing baby hidden under her loose sweatshirt._

"_Addison rarely tells us anything," complained Bizzy. "So I'm not surprised. Where did you grow up, Derek?"_

"_In Connecticut," Derek answered._

"_Hmm," said Mr. Montgomery. "And how, exactly, do you plan on caring for my daughter? Do you have a job, or a trust fund, perhaps? Because I will not have the two of you digging into hers."_

"_Dad," Addison said in a warning voice. This dinner seemed poised to go worse than Thanksgiving with Derek's family, at which his mother accused her of trying to poison them all and they ended up having hot dogs._

"_I'm just asking," he defended himself. "I'm trying to protect you from people who are after your money."_

"_Protect me. Right," Addison snorted. "You never protected me a day in your life, all you cared about was your stupid company. You never had time for me as a child."_

"_Well, my prospects aren't the best now," Derek admitted, smiling charmingly, clearly trying to ease the situation, which was riddled with tension. None of the Montgomery's smiled, however. "But I want to be a neurosurgeon, and if I'm good, I'll make a pretty good living. Once we're finished at Columbia, Addison and I are looking to work at Mt. Sinai, with a couple of our other friends."_

"_So you're going to live off her money until then," Mr. Montgomery stated._

"_No, I have savings …" Derek started._

"_Enough to support her like she's used to?" Bizzy asked._

"_Mom, Dad, enough with the Inquisition!" Addison snapped as she stood, her voice lashing through the overwrought atmosphere. "It's none of your business who I date or how I do it!" For a split second, Addison believed her words had some kind of effect on them, because they stared at her, a kind of horrified surprise dominating their expressions._

_Then she realized that in her haste and anger, her sweatshirt had ridden up, revealing the dome that was her five month pregnant belly._

"_Oh my God," Bizzy said, placing her hand over her heart and sounding like she was about to cry. "What have you done?" she cried, over and over. "What have you done? You've ruined yourself!"_

"_How dare you show up here and try to gain our favor after knocking up our daughter!" Mr. Montgomery thundered at Derek._

"_I trust you're going to get rid of it," Bizzy stated once she'd calmed down a bit._

"_Don't be ridiculous, I'm five months pregnant! Of course I'm not going to 'get rid of it'," Addison said angrily, hoping her growing child could not hear the verbal lashing that was going on. Feeling unwanted was one of the most heart-shattering experiences in the world, and she'd traverse the distance to Hell and back if it meant her child never had to suffer it._

"_You said you and Derek have been dating for three months," her father said, his voice cold and calculating._

"_I did," she said automatically, confused before she realized that he was slyer than she'd imagined and he was setting her up._

"_Then who the hell's baby is this?" Bizzy screeched like a provoked banshee, and Addison closed her eyes, wishing them all away and hoping that she and Derek could escape sooner rather than later._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Addison, will you please sit still!" Naomi admonished for the hundredth time.

"I can't," Addison moaned. "I just can't. What if there's nothing there? What if there's something wrong with the baby?" She shifted again, pulling her navy silk peasant blouse higher and revealing the slight mound that had become her stomach.

Naomi rolled her eyes and squirted the freezing gel on Addison's stomach before the redhead could move again, making her gasp and making Sage giggle. "It's gonna be fine, Mom," he promised. "Naomi, can we see what color the eyes are?"

"No," Naomi said with a chuckle. "You can't tell what color the eyes are until the baby is born; we won't be able to even tell if it's a boy or a girl yet. You're ten weeks now, right Addie?"

"Yes," Addison sighed. She and Sage had spent a single, sun-filled week in LA, jumping in and out of hungry aquamarine waves and curling up on the deck at dusk. It gave her a real opportunity to get to know her son, because at even at age eight, she'd missed too many years of his quirks and wishes and fears and likes and dislikes. She learned that stroking his brilliant red locks when they spilled liquidly onto his forehead could put him to sleep within five minutes, and that he wrinkled his button nose when upset, which made him look like an elf.

Sage had complete confidence in her and was willing to follow her wherever she chose to lead them, be it LA or Seattle or somewhere entirely new, but he remained adamant that they were _supposed _to be in Seattle. There was no way for Addison to justify abandoning that city of nightmares anyway, because depriving Mark of another of his children, even unknowingly, would be unthinkably cruel. All those years alone in a place where nobody operated on the same plane had made Sage strong, and she became convinced that they could build a life in Seattle, just the three of them. He held her hair when she spent the morning worshiping the porcelain goddess; he ate the meals she attempted to cook out of magazines, no matter how black and ruined they were.

They melded so well, mother and son, that she often found it difficult to believe that he hadn't been there his whole life.

"There it is," Naomi whispered softly as she settled the ultrasound on the peak of Addison's small curve. Her miracle baby, the baby she hadn't even been sure existed until this moment, was there, floating in a serene bubble of warmth inside of her. She wasn't prepared for the love that engulfed her in that moment. It was different than the inexplicable love than when she had met Sage, but the same in the fact that it was completely involuntary.

"That's a baby?" Sage asked skeptically, squinting at the black and white shapes on the screen. "I can't see anything. It doesn't look like a baby."

Naomi had just opened her mouth to explain to Sage exactly what they were seeing when there was a soft knock on the door and it was opened without a pause for a reply. "Hey, Nae, we were just wondering …" Sam started off apologetic for interrupting her appointment, but when he saw Addison his jaw dropped and he stood there with a dumbfounded expression.

"What's wrong, Sam?" a perpetually annoyed Violet inquired, clutching baby Brennan to her chest. "I can't see!"

"What are we doing here, people?" came Pete's voice as he too tried to see over Sam's shoulder.

"Is this a party? How come nobody invited me?" Cooper pouted.

"Oh my God, she's pregnant," Violet finally gasped, having bent down to take a took under Sam's arm.

"Who?" Cooper wanted to know.

"Addison!" Violet exclaimed.

"Yeah, where is Addison? I haven't seen her since -" Pete began.

"No, Addison is pregnant, moron," Violet told him.

"What? Sam, will you please get out of the way?" Cooper sighed, exasperated. Sam obliged, and Addison found herself surrounded by her colleagues, who all had a perfect view of her exposed stomach and the gel covering it, not to mention the child growing inside her on the screen.

Addison sat up quickly, her shirt falling down and sticking to the gel, but it was already too late. She hated putting such vulnerability on display and detested when unripe secrets crept out before she was ready to reveal them. It was still difficult for _her _to fathom that Mark's child was making a home inside of her, not to mention other people knowing about it.

"Well," Sam said finally, grinning widely. "Congratulations, Addison. We'll just … leave you two to finish up." The others echoed their congratulations after him, Violet looking curious, Pete protective, and Cooper still surprised. Addison sank back as they exited, exhaling slowly, trying to keep tears from pooling in her eyes.

Her hands moved toward her stomach as if a gravitational force pulled them there, to the little piece of Mark that grew there, making its own revolving little world deep inside her. Naomi cleaned up silently while Sage drifted over to the window to peer out at the beach.

"So I guess you want me to put your house on the market," Naomi muttered after a few minutes, still refusing to look at her.

"Look, Nae, I'm sorry. But I can't deprive M – you know who – of another child. It just wouldn't be right, not after what I did the first time." Thoughts of the procedure that had ended the life of what was theoretically her second child still haunted her dreams, and until this baby had made its way into her body she'd always felt incomplete, like she'd expunged part of herself as well. Mark's palpable sorrow when she told him hardened her certainty that this time; their child would get to feel the warm rays of the sun and soft fluidity of water.

"You moved down here to escape Seattle," Naomi pointed out. "You said you needed a new start."

"I have a new start," Addison pointed out, her eyes sliding over her son's fine, elegant features. "I first came down here to have a baby, remember? That was going to be my fresh start. But then I couldn't have one so I abandoned that dream. Now it's within my reach and I have to do what's right by my child … by my children."

"You'll come to visit?" Naomi asked.

"Every time we get tired of the damn rain," Addison promised, and although her son was facing the window, she caught a hint of his triumphant smile. For better or for worse, Seattle was where they belonged.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Yes, mother. Saltine crackers for morning sickness. Okay, I'll tell her. Wait – you want to talk to her?" Derek glanced over at his fiancée, slim and beautiful in one of his old sweatshirts; she shook her head vigorously and made various threatening gestures.

"Uh, mom, she's in the shower right now," Derek corrected quickly, trying to talk over Carolyn's enthusiastic chirps. "But, um, I'm sure you'll see her soon, with the wedding coming up and all. Yes, we are aware that it's two months away. No, I think we've got it, Meredith has a friend helping her. Okay – okay, Mom. Bye." Derek rid himself of the phone as if it had done him a personal offense and ran to scoop up his fiancée. She giggled, startled, and returned with urgent kisses with uninhibited fervor.

"I think our kid is making you horny," Derek commented while running his fingers down her sides and feeling her shivers resonate deep inside his own body.

"That's not until second trimester," Meredith pointed out breathily while he replaced his lips with his hands. "I would think you would know that, having been married to an OB/GYN for eleven years."

"Me and Addison never had a baby."

"But you knew her when she had Sage."

"Can we not talk about my ex-wife while I'm trying to seduce you?" Derek begged as his tongue made a wet trail from her stomach to her hip and Meredith moaned erotically.

"Fine, sorry. But have you heard anything from her? I'm worried about her all alone with Sage and the -"

"Mer!"

"Sorry." Derek let her see him roll his eyes and then moved his lips to the tiny bump that was their growing child. Seeing such a miracle within the woman he loved aroused his emotions even more, but he felt that Meredith shouldn't be the only one getting attention.

"How's it going in there, buddy?" he asked, his lips tickling the delicate skin underneath her bellybutton. "Me and Mommy can't wait to have a look at you, but we have to wait until your aunt gets back from LA, because Mommy doesn't want anyone else to do her ultrasound."

"There you go," Meredith sighed, sinking into the chair on which he'd placed her. "You just murdered the mood. I can't have sex with you if you're going to be all touchy-feely with the kid there."

"I did not kill the mood. How did I kill the mood?" Derek protested petulantly.

Meredith sighed. "Did you call the flourist?"

"No."

"Then go call the -" She stopped speaking when Derek placed his lips over hers hungrily and pushed her back into the chair.

"Talking to my child isn't a mood killer. In fact, you should think it's kind of sexy," he informed her while tumbling her out of his ancient sweatshirt. Meredith chuckled into his chest but didn't argue while Derek's lips explored her back possessively.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

As an eight year old child, all of the magic hadn't quite leaked out of the world for Sage, but he still marveled at the things that had come to be within a few short weeks. He now had a mother and a developing sibling; he would never face the world's revolving winds alone again.

Sage was so focused on the baby inside his mother, the living, breathing child he could teach all his best soccer tricks and commiserate over red hair with, that he wasn't watching where he was going when he skipped out of the room ahead of his mother and Naomi, who were discussing something called CVS that Sage hadn't the faintest clue about. So he didn't notice that he didn't occupy the hallway alone with his musings until he ran smack dab into another person.

"Whoa!"

A strong hand captured his forearm and kept him upright, and Sage looked up into warm brown eyes and a head of messy brown locks. "Careful there, bud. I may not be in uniform, but I can still give speeding tickets."

"Kevin," said the pretty woman beside him ruefully, who wore shades of make-up that reminded Sage of candy.

"Sorry," Sage said, giving them his most charming smile. Before he'd wound up in Seattle Grace Hospital, he had mastered strategies for evading policemen just like this one, concealing himself in cracks and crevices to avoid detection and deportation back to the orphanage he hated.

"Sage, honey, please be more careful," his mother called from down the hall. "You just got your cast off and I sincerely doubt you want another one." She approached them and slipped her hand into Sage's, ready to tug him away, and Sage turned his head to the dancing sunshine just out of his reach, eager to get out of the boring medical facility.

"I'm sorry, I – Addison?" The policeman, Kevin, stuttered. The connection of mother and son, their two hands joined loosely, seemed to garner his attention most of all.

"Kevin," his mother sighed resignedly. Sage tried to pick apart the emotions hidden in her voice, shock, sadness, defensiveness, maybe a little anger, but he could only guess at her connection to Kevin as well as be glad that it was over. There were few people he was willing to share her with, Mark and Derek and Meredith and Callie being exclusively included in such a group, and he was wary of anyone his mother regarded with even the slightest bit of dread.

"I didn't know you had a kid," Kevin said, and it seemed a question as well as a statement. Sage frowned, disliking the man's tone, but neither Kevin nor the woman beside him spared him even a glance.

"I didn't know either, until a few weeks ago," Addison snapped, but he felt her squeeze his fingers gently, communicating that her irritation was not with him.

"Oh," Kevin replied neutrally. He seemed to be waiting for an introduction.

"Kevin, this is my son, Sage. Sage, this is my … friend, Kevin, and by the way Kevin, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Oh, we're just waiting for Dr. Bennett," the fawn haired woman giggled, pouting lollipop red lips and entwining her hand with Kevin's. She smelled too sweet to Sage, the stench of sugar was overwhelming. "I hurt my wrist and I was going to go to the hospital, but Kevin said that this place was so much better. The secretary said he was with a patient, though, so we were just looking around."

"What happened to your wrist?" asked Naomi, who had been watching from off to the side doubtfully. Possibly she was trying to dispel some of the awkwardness that lingered over them, but her question only served to make it worse.

"Pole dancing, most likely," Addison muttered under her breath. Sage wasn't sure what that was, but she didn't look too far off the mark from the expression on the woman's face. Words hovered on Addison's lips, like she was about to say more, but before she could she clapped her hand over her mouth and stumbled over to a potted plant. Sage tried not to look at that morning's burnt blueberry muffins being regurgitated inside.

"Sorry," he said to Kevin and the woman, trying to keep it pleasant. "My mom's having a baby, and sometimes she doesn't feel that well."

"Thanks a lot, Sage," Addison muttered from her position over the ficus tree. Sage cringed slightly and hurried over to his mother to help her hold her hair, in case more food decided to make an appearance.

"You're pregnant?" Kevin blurted, looking positively shocked. "Jeez, you don't waste time, do you?"

Sage wasn't sure exactly what he was implying, but Kevin's tone was unambiguous and Sage decided on the spot that he didn't like him. Addison beat him to speaking, however, saying from her kneeling position, "It's none of you businesses anymore, quite frankly."

Kevin's girlfriend was trying to interpret what exactly was going on, and Sage inferred that she wasn't the sharpest nail in the drawer by her blank expression. Kevin looked angry and a little insulted, Naomi had slunk off, and his mother had a hand over the bump that had formed and rubbed circles over the skin that covered the baby, trying to soothe it.

"Well, what do the Forbes Montgomery's have to say about that?" Kevin asked with a smirk. "One illegitimate child appears out of nowhere, and another's on the way."

"Shut up, asshole." Sage's childhood had not exactly been innocuous; swear words leaked between the creaky bunk beds and boys told stories in the night that made Sage bury his head under his pillow and wish for morning. But he'd toughed up and learned how to fend off the bullies that were famous for alienating anyone with a freckle out of place.

"Sage!" Addison admonished, but her authority was compromised by another round of retching. Kevin looked in-between Sage's fierce expression and Addison helpless nausea and then back at his girlfriend, who was popping her gum and looking bored.

"Nice to see you, Addison," he spat before turning on his heel and pulling his doll-like girlfriend along with him.

"Friend, right," Sage snorted as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Fine, ex-boyfriend," Addison admitted as she stood shakily, wiping her mouth. Her face was red with embarrassment so Sage wrapped his arms around her waist and she pressed a kiss to his gold-tinted hair.

"I didn't like him," Sage said instantly.

"Of course you didn't," she chuckled. Sage glanced back over his shoulder to the retreating Kevin and girlfriend, noting the way he held her and supported her. He didn't care for either of them as people but there was something right about that picture, something complete about their affection. He couldn't replace a husband or boyfriend in his mother's life, just like she couldn't be both a mother and a father to him. Their family had a hole and they needed a patch to stitch it back up.

"Mom? I want to find my dad," Sage said quietly as he and Addison wondered out of Oceanside and towards the waves that crashed in for miles unseen.

Addison looked startled and pulled back to look him in the eye. "I know you do, baby, but I don't know how -"

"We could hire private investigators," Sage suggested. "It's not that I don't love you, Mom. It's just that you deserve to be with someone you love as much as I deserve a father."

Addison sighed, watching ocean foam swirl curiously around the legs of strangers. "Okay," she said finally. "We … we can look into it. But this isn't some sort of Parent Trap, parents see each other and live happily ever after thing, okay?"

"Fine," Sage agreed, but he thought privately that she was wrong.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Each drop of rain was icy fire against his skin, burning him deep all the way to his soul. He had been damaged, incomplete, for what felt like the entire course of his life and he was tired of feeling like he was drowning every other second.

Latisha, the child whose cleft lip and palate he had been attempting to correct that morning, had died while in surgery. Death's frightening clutches had always avoided Mark, and he let so few people close to him that he never feared the untimely demises of anyone but Derek and Addison. Now the swiftness and abruptness of death truly dawned on him, and he wondered why he'd wasted half his life on things that didn't matter. The most important things to him would always be a certain redheaded woman and little boy and that fact would remain unchanging for the remainder of his existence.

He and Addison always ended up tossed in together, like vital ingredients to a recipe that would not yield the correct output in the event of their absence. He would bet that even if the earth exploded, they would find themselves sitting on the same moon, a sultry, slightly apologetic smile on her face.

There were some things, he was discovering, that you just couldn't fight, some equations that surrendered the same results no matter the variables, some connections that could be frayed and beaten beyond belief but never broken.

Life was short, as little Latisha, who was much too young to die, had proved. His excuse for his unrestrained life had always been that he didn't want to have any regrets, but in truth it was a way of distancing himself to prevent him from acquiring any regrets at all. But every minute of his life not spent with Addison or Sage was a minute lost, and ever since they left for LA he had been feeling a very poor man indeed.

It was time for him to lay all his cards on the table, to give up everything for Addison and accept whatever she offered in return. And as moisture sank through his thin t-shirt all the way to his bones, eliciting shivers, the only thing that kept him breathing was the hope that this time they would finally get it right.

* * *

**So, Mark and Addison finally have their heads on straight. But things rarely go as planned ... you'll just have to wait and see. Anyway ... reviews? I'm feeling a little neglected. I'm starting the next chapter right now so it should be out sooner than this one.**

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	16. Here Goes Nothin'

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**16. _Here Goes Nothin'_**

**See? I told you I'd get the next chapter out faster. Here Goes Nothin' is a song by NeverShoutNever.**

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_Nine Years Ago: A Bit of Trouble_

_The person Mark had been the night before he had met her was gone, but he couldn't mourn the old Mark, because that version of himself was naïve and purposeless. This new Mark existed for one reason and one reason only: to find the girl that had loved him senseless on a rooftop the night before. And as Mark dangled his feet over their christened rooftop, watching as Santorini woke and stretched its far reaching limbs through the bustle of people, he wished he was down there searching. There was only one slight problem._

_He couldn't find his pants._

_The rest of his clothes were strewn about the roof along with the blanket whose former location he could not account for, but the one article of clothing he really needed was the only one missing. Mark covered his crotch with his hand and peered over the edge of the roof, searching the blissfully deserted street for his low-ride jeans. He edged closer and closer, hoping that that patch of blue he'd spotted around the corner was denim …_

"_Oi!" Mark jumped and stumbled backward, still frantically trying to cover his crotch as a small, rotund Greek lady stumbled out of the house below him wielding a broom. "Oi!" She continued to scream at him unintelligibly in Greek as Mark made frantic shushing noises and glanced periodically down to make sure she couldn't see anything._

"_I don't speak Greek," he said brilliantly after several minutes of shouting._

_The woman shook her head and rolled her eyes exasperatedly but switched to English. "You! Down!"_

_Mark swung agilely down the ladder one-handed, only obeying because 1. it wasn't his house and 2. he didn't really want her to call half of Santorini over to laugh at him, like her furious dark eyes seemed to be threatening. She caught his muscled bicep just as his toes touched the cobbled road, imprisoning him in an iron grip while he tried to hop over far enough to snag his jeans with his foot._

"_What you doing, huh?" she yelled in his ear. "Stupid American, think he can get naked on my roof."_

_Mark got hold of his jeans at last but as he pulled the dew-soaked material over his tanned legs he heard giggles and turned to see three teenage girls in the doorway, who he assumed were the daughters of the woman yelling at him. Because he was Mark, he gave them his trademark wink, zipped up the jeans, and stepped away from the angry woman._

"_Yes, ma'am, I'm so sorry," he said smoothly. "It won't happen again, I promise. But perhaps you could help me? I'm looking for a beautiful blonde girl …"_

"_Dere are many bootiful girls here," she told him doubtfully, gesturing over the sun-frosted rooftops and turquoise sea._

"_She was 5'9", 5'10"," he guessed. "Golden hair, rockin' bod, eyes the color of_ that_," he pointed out at the ocean._

"_I am sorry. I do not know her," the woman said, and although she still looked stern something deep in her ebon eyes suggested she could sense the depth of his devotion._

"_Okay," he said, because if there was any chance of finding her he had to leave right away. "Thank you so much for your time, and sorry about your roof." He bent forward to kiss her wrinkled cheek and than ran off to her slight smile and the raucous laughter of her daughters._

_Mark sprinted deep into the marketplace, keeping an eye out for any taste of gold as he did so. Brightly colored boats spilled their morning treasure troves of fish onto the dock below him, two girls sprinted up a path to the villa high above the town, salespeople shouted out prices for their wares all around him. _

_He wove through the tightly pressed bodies, avoiding those whose hungry eyes recognized him as a foreigner. Black was the predominant hair color, with various shades of brown mixed in, but there were few enough people with tawny locks, most of them tourists and most easy to rule out. By the time he spotted the tumbling flaxen curls Mark's head was spinning with the faces of countless strangers._

"_Excuse me?" he asked with a charming smile, grabbing her shoulder gently to spin her around expectantly._

_Mark stumbled back, not because she wasn't the girl (although he was pretty sure she wasn't) and not because of the angry shouts of her family members, but because he realized she could be standing before him and he wouldn't even know it. The alcohol had leeched every recollection of the night before from his brain, and he imagined that she could be right under his nose and he wouldn't even know. And indeed, she lived under his nose, unknowingly taunting and tantalizing him with memories that never endingly eluded him, for over ten years._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

As a doctor, Mark believed in the physical and the palpable, in things he could literally feel and touch. But the more he fell in love with Addison over the years, the more he realized that sometimes that the things that roam the world unseen are often the most potent.

For instance, the literal temperature of Seattle Grace could not have reasonably dropped more than a fraction of a degree in the two weeks of Addison's absence, and yet more often than not Mark found himself dawning t-shirts and thermies under his scrubs in an attempt to warm a heart that had gone cold. And science could not explain that the second he heard the high, pure notes of Sage's excited voice in the next hallway he was suddenly doused in warmest spring.

"Is Meredith having a baby?" the young boy trilled to someone he assumed was Addison.

"Yes, she is." Mark was disappointed to hear Derek's voice, and he had to admit the pride in it picked at still unhealed wounds. Of course, Derek got the girl, and now Derek was having the kid he hadn't wanted until he knew of its existence but then wanted it more than anything before in his whole life.

There was a silence, and Mark could picture Sage tapping his chin in thought. "I can't believe that both -"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by Meredith's delighted call of, "Sage!" but Mark couldn't help wondering what the incipient phrase would have revealed. Both what? Meredith wasn't having twins, was she? They couldn't know that, not when the young resident had maintained that Addison and only Addison would be doing her ultrasound. Mark would have theorized that playing OB for her ex-husband's fiancée would be a rather discordant experience of jarring notes but by the sound of it Addison had already agreed, and though he knew her well he couldn't guess at the motives behind everything she did.

Mark propped his body up casually against the wall and ignored the drooling nurses as he waited to see what else he could glean from their conversation, but before they could say more he heard the distinctive, anticipated clack of heels against linoleum. Addison supposedly paused when she saw him, but he waited a moment longer so as to be able to fully savor the moment of their reunion.

Whatever the circumstances, she still took his breath away.

Knowing every inch of Addison like he did, Mark could discern a faint change that others might miss. Though unmistakably gorgeous, Addison's fine-boned face was thinner, like she hadn't been eating, but her breasts were fuller and she had a mystifying incandescence that even medicine could not explain away. And maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed to be drinking him in with paralleled fervor, like she'd obsessed over the tiny details she might forget in his absence as well.

He wasn't aware of moving but only of finally feeling Addison's body in his tight embrace. Mark slid his hands up over her silk covered back, fingers lingering over the spot where her blouse was untucked from her form-fitting skirt and he got a sample of skin as smooth as cream. And it was wrong because he technically still had a girlfriend (Lexie had been avoiding him because he needed 'space' to 'rethink his priorities') but he still allowed his nose to explore the silky smoothness of Addison's hair while he whispered, "I missed you."

She pulled back a bit, in order to meet his eyes, and he was afraid that she would retreat into her cold façade and remind him about his responsibilities to his girlfriend. But she didn't, instead she whispered vulnerably, "I missed you too."

"Addison, there's something I need to say," he said, at the point where he didn't care that they were in a hallway chock full of patients, nurses, and other doctors, but before the words left his lips there was a crash as a vial of blood hit the floor and splattered the floor in a crimson tide. Addison and Mark stared, uncomprehending, as the floor began to vibrate, carts shook, and someone yelled, "Earthquake!"

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

As he traversed the halls with Meredith tucked under one arm, Sage skipping ahead of them, he was finally able to behold the future that materialized before him a little more everyday. A convoluted maze of choices and actions hovered in his past, but for the first time, he could fully see and appreciate where he was heading.

"Why do we have to go to lunch without Mom and Mark?" Sage inquired from a few feet in front of them, throwing freckled, slightly sunburned cheeks over his shoulder to look at them.

"I think your Mom and Mark need some time alone." Sage wrinkled his nose at this declaration, and Derek saw wheels turning behind his celery eyes and wondered if he'd said too much, but Sage didn't comment. Instead, the boy frowned, staring at a supply cart that shuddered and shook uncontrollably. Derek became suddenly aware of the ground vibrating beneath his feet, of beds trembling, nurses screaming, and Meredith and Sage each latching onto an arm for support.

"The world is shaking!" Sage cried, his grip an unbreakable vice on Derek's arm. Derek scooped up the boy's tangle of grasshopper limbs, tightened his arm around Meredith's waist, and hauled them into the nearest patient's room and out of the line of fire, where being hit by a rolling cart or gurney seemed more likely than not. Several others had already taken refuge in the room and Derek quickly secured any equipment that looked likely to roll.

"Everybody get against the wall!" Derek called out, setting the example by carefully placing Sage against it and helping Meredith down by his side. He thought he had known the meaning of responsibility, but this assumption was refuted by their situation. At every rumble he had to restrain himself from throwing his weight in front of Meredith to spare their unborn child any potential perils. And then there was Sage, who wasn't even his own child but who Addison had entrusted to his care.

The boy eyed the door longingly, his fixation indicating that his mind was on his mother, out in the minefield of cataclysm that had, just a few minutes ago, been a place of healing. He jumped at every crash and seemed ready to leap up and seek her out.

"She's okay," Derek heard Meredith whisper from beside him. "She and Mark will be fine."

"I want to go find her," Sage declared resolutely, and remembering that Sage had run away from the orphanage and the ambulance that was trying to help him, Derek laid a restraining hand on the boy's shoulder.

"It's too dangerous," he told the flame-haired boy. "Remember what happened before when you got hit by the car? Your mother was so worried and she didn't even know she was your mother yet. She's trusting us to keep you safe."

"Can I go find her when the earth goes back to sleep?" Sage asked from his curled up position on the floor.

Derek nodded and Sage sighed, scooting closer to him and his fiancée. Derek groped for Meredith's hand and squeezed it when he located it, creating reassurance while they out waited the disaster.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She found it anomalously ironic that while the world was, quite literally, crashing down around her, the only sensation she was even vaguely aware of was Mark's legs pressed against hers as they crouched in the doorway. The livewire between his muscular calves and the fine hairs that tickled her softly and her skin reminded her that the eminent second trimester was only a week away. It was easy to forget the muscular grace, the god-like features, and the way her heart tended to misbehave in his presence.

Mark's eyes, however, were trained on the quavering building and not at her distracted, pregnant mess of a self, and she copied him, tracking the progress of fellow doctors and patients alike. That was when she remembered the missing piece that had become such a pivotal part of her existence during the last few weeks. "Sage!"

She made to get up but Mark captured her forearm and bore her down beside him. She ended up sprawled in his lap, her head cushioned by one wiry thigh and her scrub top riding dangerously up, on the verge of revealing the secret growing inside her. "Adds, Sage is with Derek and Meredith," Mark reminded her, his fingers smoothing her tangled hair gently. "He'll be fine."

"But -"

"You need to keep yourself safe," Mark reminded her, and although she was averse to leaving her son alone in the middle of another disaster, lest he be snatched away from her again, she had another child to think about, a child who still had transparent skin and was developing little stumps of teeth and possibly learning to clench and unclench its fists. Pondering these advancements made her hyperaware of the feelings of other parents, parents who did not have their children snuggled safely inside them but instead in this very hospital struggling for their lives.

"Mark, the NICU," she whispered brokenly.

"Addie, there's nothing we can -"

"We can sit in there and keep them calm. It's not far from here," she wheedled, her eyes exploring further and further down the hallway from where they were stationed.

"Okay," Mark agreed, standing cautiously and bringing her up with him. The earthquake couldn't have lasted more than a minute so far but the earth swelled and bucked underneath her feet like a frenzied, untamable animal. The hallways were still treacherous, because although most people had taken cover inanimate objects danced through the open, unrestrained spaces violently.

They engaged the feral atmosphere in a delicate, balanced whirl as they sprinted down the hallway. At one point Mark's body crushed her up against the wall to avoid a rolling gurney and for an instant, the world froze as they stood, as close as two beings could reasonably be, with the child they had created trapped between them. Then they were off again and he was pulling her and she couldn't see … until they both sank, heaving, against the wall of the NICU.

Although her stomach was employed in a precarious rebellion, Addison pulled herself away from the support and crawled through the various incubators, checking the babies as she went. Aside from rolling around and into each other, most of them, to her relief, seemed relatively safe. Mark copied her, and although he couldn't tell by a single glance what was wrong as she could, he still examined the babies with an incontestable tenderness that set her hormones ablaze.

"How high do you think this is?" he asked as they crawled through the wailing babies.

"How high?" she inquired, confused.

"On the Richter scale," Mark clarified.

"Oh. I don't know. The building isn't collapsing, that would be like an 8 or 9, right? Maybe a 5 or a 6," she guessed.

"Richard is probably somewhere fuming so hard he'll give himself an aneurism. And then Derek will bitch about doing the surgery while being secretly pleased."

Addison laughed aloud, picturing the scenarios Mark had described. "Only you, Mark Sloan, make people laugh while on the floor in the middle of an earthquake."

"There are plenty of other sounds I could get you to make during an earthquake," Mark responded in a rough, seductive voice, and even from across the rooms Addison's knees protested their sudden weakness.

"And only you would be thinking about sex during a natural disaster," she retorted tartly, hoping her tone could conceal the arousal racing through her veins.

"I don't just think, babe -" Mark began, but a resounding crash in the doorway obstructed the rest of his flirting, for which Addison was thankful, in case the urge to jump him had become overpowering.

"Shit," Addison moaned, rising on her knees to examine the damage. The shakes had abated some but the ground still rumbled angrily. "We're trapped, Mark. Damn it! We're trapped. We're going to -"

"Hey," Mark whispered from beside her. "Shh. This ain't the end of the world, babe." He wrapped the delicate pads of his fingers around her ankles and tugged her closer, causing the ghost of a smile to form on her lips. The defined form of his knee was pushed up against her small baby bump and he rubbed comforting circles against her thigh, easing the tense muscles, and she was aware that they were alone except for a bunch of babies who certainly wouldn't remember anything that occurred in the room.

Her eyes seemed drawn to the bubblegum deliciousness of Mark's lips, and she pouted at her lack of self-discipline but before she could rectify the situation, Mark caught her in the act. She was prepared for a lewd joke and a bought of teasing, but when Mark spoke, his voice was unexpectedly rough. "You know, it's not the end of the world … but we could pretend it is."

That was all the incentive her willful body required. She leaned forward to join their lips as Mark's hand found the back of her neck to pull their bodies even closer. She wasn't sure what about Mark's tongue exploring her mouth spelled heaven or why her misbehaving hands grasped desperately at every muscle, but she did know that Mark was forbidden ambrosia, an aphrodisiac her body hadn't yet acquired immunity to.

Addison didn't know how long they kissed, but while they did, the world's shudders were ameliorated beneath them until the only indications of the forceful earthquake were the pieces of equipment sprawled all over the room. All too soon, shouts and crashes were heard near the blocked doorway, and unwelcome rescue arrived to extricate them from their empyrean prison.

It was tempting to simply continue and hang the consequences of the rumors that would unquestionably fly if anyone saw them, but amidst the shouting of the firemen rescuing them were the terrified shouts of her son. It wouldn't be right for Sage to find out what she was doing with Mark when _she _didn't even know what she was doing with Mark. And he still had a girlfriend. Supposedly.

The door gave way and firemen staggered in in hurried disarray in time to witness swollen lips and flustered faces, but as Sage elbowed his way in Addison scooted away from Mark so he could launch himself into her arms uninhibited. She avoided Mark's eye as more people flooded the room, but she felt like their actions had somehow liberated them, and Fate would allow everything else to fall into place.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"Richard banned me from work," Addison moaned, stretching her never-ending legs out from her position on the floor and curling her toes into the carpet.

"Same here," Meredith commiserated from beside her. It didn't feel so long that she flopped onto the grass with a pregnant Cristina moaning about the woman who now lay a few inches from her. But that was life, constantly twirling you over and upside down until everything you thought you knew was inside out and up in the air.

"Stupid boys. They get surgeries," Addison pouted.

"And they don't have to push these babies out of their bodies," Meredith added.

"I bet there are really good surgeries," Addison mused while examining her French manicured fingernails. "Bloody people who need stitching up, babies that want to come out after the earthquake and all."

"Where's Sage?" Meredith wondered, remembering the boy's wide-eyed fear for his mother earlier in the day.

"Oh, he's outside. Playing soccer against the neighbor's wall," Addison said unconcernedly, gesturing out at their emerald manicured lawn.

Meredith raised an eyebrow. "Against the neighbor's wall?"

"It's better than him playing with those gangsters on the street," Addison pointed out as she glanced out the window looking for the blur of red that was her son. "That's what he was doing the other day, you know. Some of those men must have been in their early twenties."

"His father must have been a freaking soccer god," Meredith said. There always seemed a missing piece, a key to Sage that no one possessed, because no matter how much they cared about him, the fact remained that his past was swathed in mystery that not even Addison could wholly unlock.

"Uh, _yeah_," Addison emphasized. "Sometimes I'm a little lost, you know. He needs a dad to do all that boy stuff with him."

Meredith sighed while her hand explored the expanded skin of her stomach under the thin material of her old Dartmouth t-shit. "I'm going to be lost either way, whether it's a boy or a girl," she admitted. "I don't know anything about kids."

"You'll be fine," Addison assured her. "I don't care whether I have a boy or a girl … but I might go crazy if I end up with two boys, now that I think about it. And since this is my last kid …"

"What did your doctor say about that?" Meredith speculated, remembering Addison's resolute claim that she could not have children just a few days before her pregnancy was revealed. "Was it just …"

"A miracle? I have no idea. It would be some miracle, if it was. Or something could have gone wrong with the testing … the results could have been due to stress, or even mixed up with someone else's," Addison pursed her lips. "I guess the only way to know for sure is have sex until I get knocked up a third time."

Meredith chuckled, unsure if Addison was kidding or not, and asked, "Does he know?"

"Mark?" Addison sighed heavily, as if the world rested on her shoulders. Meredith recognized the feeling, because growing McDreamy's child was no mean feat, and she agonized everyday over the teenie toes and delicate fingers of their child, the developing cranium and intricate irises, over every cell in which there was so much potential for malady. "No, he has no clue. I was going to tell him, while we were in the NICU kissing …"

"Wait – what?" Meredith asked, choking on this sudden divulgence of Addison's and staring over at the other women, who was contemplating the ceiling miserably.

"But then we got rescued," she continued, wrinkling her nose as if heroic actions in general were undesirable. "I don't think anyone's ever been so disappointed to see firemen."

"Addison –" Meredith began, rolling onto her stomach and repressing nausea in order to get her attention.

"Don't," Addison warned, holding up a perfectly manicured hand in warning. "Don't make it into something it's not. It was an end-of-the-world, last-thing-I-ever-do kind of thing."

Meredith scrunched her nose and frowned; she was a sucky, unqualified, infelicitous Cupid. Then again, matchmakers came from happy, bubbly families that had reunions and didn't have to pretend to like each other. In an attempt to distract herself from her sucky, un-Cupid-esque skills, she blurted, "I'm hungry."

Addison considered this. "Please tell me you have something in this house besides tequila."

"Don't worry. Izzie went all preggo-crazy on me, never mind that she's not even the one pregnant. Our fridge is stocked." She pouted. "I miss tequila."

"We'll just have to make something and _pretend _it's tequila," Addison asseverated firmly as she hauled herself to her feet and promptly tripped over the edge of a pair of what Meredith recognized as Mark's sweatpants. She dragged Meredith to the kitchen "Baby's hungry," she said, her hand lingering on her stomach.

"Berries?" Meredith asked, peeking into the fridge, which was stuffed with various unrecognizable but undeniably vivid foods.

"Ooh, the baby loves berries. And ice cream. Lots of ice cream." Addison hauled the errant blender out of a lonely cupboard and set it on the counter. Both women proceeded to stare into the glassy depths of rotating blades apprehensively.

"I don't know how to cook," Addison admitted.

"I don't either. Hey, what does Sage eat?" Meredith asked suspiciously.

"Whatever burnt crap I try to make out of those recipes in magazines."

"Poor kid."

"Yeah, well, I give him lots of desserts," Addison said defensively. "Dessert is the meaning of life, I decided. At least while I'm pregnant. I want to have one of those babies that has the cute little fat rolls all over."

"You do realize where the fat rolls are going to have to come out, right?" Meredith pointed out sagaciously. "Pickles?"

"Right," Addison's face fell comically. "Fine, put the pickles in. And chocolate, I need chocolate." Meredith obliged and fit the top on the blender carefully. She exchanged a nervous glance with Addison and then flipped the switch on the blender with her eyes shut. It immediately began making an angry grinding noise and both women shrieked involuntarily.

"I'm going to have two kids. I should probably learn how to cook," Addison said miserably as they peered at the gooey contents of the blender.

"Derek can learn how to cook," Meredith said unthinkingly and although Addison concealed her flinch masterfully, Meredith was a pro at hidden emotions and quickly changed the subject. "This doesn't taste like tequila."

"But it's good," Addison said as she sipped the brown glop.

"Yeah, it's good. You know what?" Meredith asked. "We deserve a movie."

"Yeah, but this is all shit," Addison complained, gesturing at the TV, which was projecting various images onto the empty couch.

"We have On Demand," Meredith told her.

"Second trimester's coming up. We should treat ourselves." Addison grabbed the remote. "Let's see what we've got. Brad Pitt, George Clooney, yum, um … Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, hmm … oh, Johnny Depp -"

Addison's nonsensical Johnny Depp-based chatter was cut short by the opening of the front door and Derek's indignant complaint, "Hey, are you trying to replace us with man candy?" Meredith giggled as a scruffy Derek with five o'clock shadow that made her squirm bent to kiss her with such fevered passion that she forgot who and what Johnny Depp was. Mark trailed in behind with a laughing, struggling Sage over his shoulder.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in," Addison said dryly when she saw her son and almost-ex-lover.

"Your kid hit me in the head with that goddamn ball," Mark growled.

"You said damn," Sage called loudly from Mark's shoulder, his limbs flailing wildly as he tried unsuccessfully to escape from Mark.

"Yes, and what did _you _say to Kevin last week?" Addison reminded him sweetly.

Sage's mouth popped open guiltily and Mark dumped him on the couch between his mother and Derek and picked up Addison's smoothie. Meredith couldn't help the laugh that erupted when she saw Mark's face after the first sip. "What the hell is this shit?" he spluttered. "And why the hell are you drinking this, Addie? Meredith's got an excuse because she's pregnant but -"

"Hey," Addison interrupted quickly as she grabbed the glass from his hands. "Don't knock our shit."

"You said shit," Sage sang out, mischief radiating from his eyes. "And Mark said shit _and _hell."

"Sage!" Addison said warningly.

"I only said ass last week," Sage reminded her. "Oh, and hole."

* * *

**Poor Mark and Addie ... they try to confess their love, and there's a freaking earthquake. They'll just have to try again next chapter ...**

* * *


	17. Stay With You

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**17. _Stay With You_**

**So, my litte sister begged me to watch the 1999 version of Annie with her, which I haven't seen in years, and what do I turn on the screen to see? Why, Naomi belting it out as Daddy Warbuck's assistant, of course. She's actually a pretty good singer (wasn't she on Broadway?) but I have to admit, seeing her on there was weird. Stay With You is by the Goo Goo Dolls (duh).**

* * *

_Eight Years Ago: The Other Brother_

_Addison licked her lips as she tried to hem in her jealousy for the other Starbucks patrons that had the privilege of sipping caffeinated beverages. She waltzed over to the opposite counter to await her drink, hand resting on the little life that was the result of her exile to decaf. _

"_You're lucky I love you," she told her still-flat stomach quietly. The man in a business suit beside her gave her a speculative look, as if to ask why she was talking to body parts or invisible midgets, but when she studiously ignored him he sidled off._

"_I got a grande iced latte and a grande Americano," one of the baristas yelled out, and Addison vied for a position to pick up her coffee with a handsome, dark haired stranger. He stepped forward gallantly when he saw her and handed her the iced latte._

"_Thanks," she said politely, smiling shyly when his crystal blue eyes met hers. Since the conception of her baby two months ago, she had avoided men in general, still trying to figure out how her one-night stand in Greece had scrambled her life so thoroughly. This man continued to stand there, though, rocking back and forth on his heels in a slightly nervous way. _

_He was cute and earnest and something about him seemed vaguely familiar, so she took pity on him and initiated the conversation. "Isn't it a bit hot to be drinking that?" she teased, indicating his steamy cup which was a direct contrast with her clear, ice filled one. _

"_I hate icy drinks," he admitted. "So in the summer, I have to drink my coffee next to the air conditioning."_

_Addison laughed unexpectedly, picturing him leaning up against an air conditioning unit in a sweater and long johns, mug in hand. The man grinned as well, looking rather pleased with himself, and extended a hand. "Derek Shepherd."_

"_Addison Montgomery," she said, feeling the warm calluses on his palm as they shook hands._

"_That sounds familiar," he mused, and she readied herself to fend off a lame pick-up line until he continued, "You don't perhaps go to Columbia, do you? Medical school?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "I do, actually."_

"_Well, Addison from Columbia, would you like to go out sometime?" Derek asked, charm emanating from his grin._

_Addison sighed. She hadn't been on a date in a while but going out with nice, charming Derek while carrying an unknown man's baby would be blatantly unfair to him. "Trust me," she said, "You really don't want to date me."_

"_Trust me," he countered, "I really do."_

_She pursed her lips at his conviction and decided to test him. "I'm pregnant," she blurted bluntly and was rewarded when Derek's countenance reflected his stupefaction and his eyes flicked down to her stomach._

_But a second later he recovered and offered, "So no bars, then." She had to laugh again and agreed to meet Derek for (decaf) coffee the following week._

_She didn't know she'd just met her husband of eleven years. She didn't know about his fervid connection with the father of her child, and she didn't know the discord this would cause eight years later._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The blazing pavement was practically melting the soles of his sneakers as he wove at a sprint through the muscled forms of the other players, controlling the ball expertly between his feet. He hopped over the ball in a modified Maradona in order to avoid the last defender, and Paulo's dreadlocks whipped against his face as he ran past. FatBoy guarded the wall, which sported a graffiti logo, the 'L' of which was the goal. Sage leaned to the right, effectively faking out FatBoy, and then took the shot with his left foot. It ricocheted off the target perfectly.

"Gooooooooooooooal!" Cruz yelled, looping an arm around Sage's shoulders as the boy pushed his lithe form into the air. "Damn, kid, you unstoppable."

Shorty swore and slammed the ball against the wall as hard as he could. "I call the kid next time," he said. "He always wins."

"'Nother goal?" Terrell asked, flicking the ball up with his heel to the small of his back.

"Fuck no, man, we won!" Juan protested. "Besides, es cuatro. We gotta go."

"Later, bud!" Diesel called as the young men sprinted off in various directions, climbing over unfortunate cars and swinging on any low hanging perches. Sage sighed in discontent and slipped between the graffitied buildings as he made his way back to the hospital, he noticed someone watching him. Sage sped up, nervousness coiling like snakes in his belly, until the man caught up and he was forced to stop.

"Don't run away," the man called. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. I'll stay over here, I just want to ask you something, okay?" Sage paused cautiously and surveyed the man, who exhibited a sense of youth and agilely despite his ashen hair and tailored clothes.

"I saw you playing there, in the street, and you have talent. I coach a premiere gold boy's U-14 team and I wanted to know if you were interested in joining it. My name is Anthony Contadina."

"You want me to play on your team?" Sage asked skeptically.

"Well, I'd like to win a few more tournaments this year, so yes."

Sage hovered surreptitiously outside the repaired OR. In the month since the earthquake, most of the damage had been repaired, but a few work crews still lingered. "Hey," his mother said as she emerged, pulling her turquoise scrub cap from tousled crimson locks and wrapping an arm around him. At four months pregnant her rounded bump had become more prominent, but increasingly baggy scrubs hid it from everyone but him, Derek and Meredith.

"Hey," he replied with a wide grin, still reveling in the fact that they had found each other. "How was your surgery?"

She let forth an exhausted sigh, signaling her exasperation. "A nightmare. The patient coded three times. She -" Addison stopped upon spotting Anthony and Sage winced, somehow having pictured the situation going slightly more smoothly. "Can I help you?" Addison asked shortly.

"Yes ma'am. My name is Anthony Contadina and I saw your son playing soccer in the street today and it was clear right away that he has an astounding affinity for the game. I'm here to offer him the remaining coveted positions on my premiere gold U-14 team."

His mother was lost at 'soccer in the street.' Although she imposed only a few rules that he was only too happy to follow, soccer was his passion, an addiction he didn't think he'd ever be able to shake. But Addison worried for his safety, always checking figurative shadows for lurking monsters ready to snatch him away from her again. "Sage, what did I say about playing soccer in the street?" she asked sternly.

"But Mom –"

"But Sage –"

"If you just listen I promise I'll never play in the street again," he divulged hastily, before she could reprimand him anymore.

Addison raised one disbelieving eyebrow, but when she determined the truth as stamped on his face, she gave in. "Okay," she sighed.

"I want to play on this team, Mom," he said simply.

"Didn't you say it was for fourteen year olds?" Addison asked Anthony.

"Thirteen and fourteen year olds, yes, but your son could easily play at their level. We play here in Washington and also in Oregon, Idaho, California, Nevada, and Hawaii. Also, many of the players attend an Olympic Development Camp in the off-season. It would be a great opportunity for Sage to hone his skills, especially if he aspires to play professionally."

"Please, Mom?" Sage begged.

"We'll think about it," Addison promised. "I know you get bored at the hospital during the day. Do you have a number we can call, or anything?" she asked Anthony, who handed over his card and gave Sage a small wave before loping off. "We can talk about it, Sage, but now we really have to go. I told the real estate agent we'd meet her at the house at four."

"But why can't we just stay at Derek and Meredith's house?" he asked. Sometimes Derek could be prevailed upon to play soccer with him in the golden brown backyard, and at night they battled out their daily frustrations on his Wii.

"Because Derek and Meredith are going to be newlyweds soon. And newlyweds are very … _busy_."

"With what?"

"Taxes," Addison said. "Derek can get rather loud when doing his taxes."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

She was sure that she had somehow stepped into a dream when she descended onto a sea of lush, verdant grass with marble columns looming before her. This was only the second house she and Sage had visited, and yet she recognized perfection in the newly built majesty of the elegantly constructed house.

Sage trailed somewhat behind, flicking a soccer ball with the toes of his Vans, which were now stained green. Addison smiled back at her son, who grinned widely back, and then rolled his eyes, giving her permission to immerse herself in the house.

Addison's real estate agent spoke about the light wood floors, the spacious living room, the view of the meadow and creek, but Addison was more interested in a suite that could be all hers, in a room with a large glass window she felt Sage would love, in a space adjacent from her room that could be made into a nursery. She could see them, just the three of them, in this house as her feet explored the plush eggshell carpet. Her, Sage, and a cooing, gurgling baby. It was a fight not to imagine Mark beside his infant son or daughter.

"What do you think?" Addison asked Sage as he poked his head into a closet.

"I love it!" he exclaimed. "Maybe we can even make a soccer field outside."

"We'll see about that one, bud," she said cautiously.

"And this could be my room, and that could be your room, and this could be the baby's room!" Sage spouted excitedly. "Can we buy it, Mom? Please? I'll give you some of my allowance!"

"You're expecting?" Addison's agent, Victoria De-La-Something, inquired. "Well, this would be the perfect house to raise a child. There's a large yard, not to mention the creek, and the downstairs is practically baby-proofed already."

Addison threw a disparaging look at Sage, who winced guiltily, and then resisted the urge to turn away from Victoria, who was staring rather obviously at her stomach. Her bump was small enough to be concealed in scrubs, but at 16 weeks pregnant, it was just noticeable when she was in street clothes.

The awkward silence was dispelled by the arrival of Callie, whom Addison had invited for a second opinion. "Hey, superstar," the fiery resident greeted, pressing a kiss to the top of Sage's head before aggressively examining the house herself. "I'd say this is the one, Addie. How much is it?" she demanded of Victoria.

"$3 million," Victoria replied.

"Well, that's all taken care of, isn't it," Callie said jovially, leaving Victoria in a blizzard of suspicion that she could have gotten a whole lot more money out of Addison.

"So I can keep my allowance?" Sage asked meekly.

"Yes, of course," Addison sighed. Her headache was wreaking havoc on her consciousness, like her blood vessels were engaged in a rebellion, intent on obstructing blood flow in her head. It didn't help that Mark's face kept popping up also, his head cocked slightly to the side like it was when he was listening intently, his eyes sparkling as he showed off his million dollar smile.

As if Mark could sense the direction of her thoughts, her phone suddenly buzzed against her hip, and she gulped at the presence of those familiar seven digits. Neither of them had yet spoken about what had transpired in the NICU the day of the earthquake, but she regarded such a talk like impending doom, worried that Mark no longer felt about her the way she felt about him.

"I think we all know who that is," Callie snorted when Addison picked up the phone, and, after listening for a few seconds, looked to her car. "Call me later, okay? And she wants the house, she's just having trouble speaking at the moment," Callie informed Victoria.

"Okay," Addison breathed, trying to quiet her heart, worried that its frantic beating could be heard aloud. "Sage, we've got to go."

"Why?" her son asked, grabbing her proffered hand. "I thought we were buying the house."

"We can't buy it today," Addison explained. "And we'll come back."

"Where are we going?" he questioned, but she couldn't verbally explain the hold Mark Sloan seemed to have over her, so she didn't see any point in trying.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"153 and 29."

"What?" Meredith inquired of her fiancé, who was sprawled among the white crib parts they'd picked up from a baby store at the insistence of Izzie. The blonde resident also point blank demanded to know the sex, but only Addison knew the answer to that question, just like she knew the sex of Addison's baby. It was an agreement they'd worked out to keep the genders of their respective children secret from everyone else, though Derek had begged and pleaded and offered various sexual favors in order to get her to find out.

"Twenty-nine days until the wedding and one hundred fifty-three days until the due date," Derek explained, a wide grin leaping across his face as his gaze shifted to her figure under the wife-beater tank top she wore. She desired some definitive, tangible proof that there was indeed a child inside her, and the shirt displayed her slight but expanded bump magnificently.

"Wow," Meredith giggled nervously. "Just wow. This is all happening all at once."

"This is happening all at once," Derek confirmed, "but I couldn't be happier about it."

"I don't have a dress, Der. Izzie's taking care of most everything but …"

"You're getting the dress in two weeks," Derek reminded her calmly. "Izzie sent me like fifty memos about it, threatening to 'deman' me if you aren't there. Everything is falling into place, Mer. You just gotta trust it." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and bestowed a similar one to the bump under her.

"I'm trying," she sighed, leaning into him as he fitted one of the legs onto the snow white sleigh crib, which could cradle either a girl or a boy. "I just have no experience with happily ever after."

"At least our baby has a nursery," Derek pointed out. "What is Addison going to do?"

"She looked at a house today, and said she would call me to come look if she liked it."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Looks like it," Meredith smiled, hoping her newest friend and pregnancy comrade could experience the same happiness she'd been granted.

"I wonder what they'll find out tonight," Derek mused, eyes dancing wickedly.

"You mean there's more than the fact that they love each other and she's carrying his child?" Meredith asked sarcastically.

"Yes," Derek said. "I'd tell you if I could, but it'll ruin the surprise, and besides, I want to see how much they've figured out tomorrow."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

It was strange to see his life splayed so clearly and easily before him in the boy sleeping under the flickering credits of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and the woman beside him, her hand rubbing over the mustard yellow fabric of her son's henley, clad in only a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of tights. For him, they defined family.

Their eyes met over Sage's softly slumbering silhouette, and he knew he had never before known the meaning of haunting vulnerability like her eyes showcased in that moment. They were tired, jaded cynics now, but something about it matched up in their eyes, like they fed off each other's troubles and somehow spun them into insignificance. Time was tricky, jolting forward and moving back and racing forward at the most inopportune moment, and as the couple in the movie had shown, in the case of time you had to take what was given to you and hold it close to your heart for as long as you could muster.

Mark planned on doing just that. On the suede couch the color of eggshells their thumbs collided just beside the membrane concealing Sage's jugular, their nails, his short and dull and masculine, hers a glossy clear, skated over each other. She could see from his stature what was coming, but she didn't run; instead she faced him straight on and waited.

At one time Mark would have been afraid to make this speech, afraid to tie and devote himself so completely to the whims of another, but now the words spilled from his heart like the delicate chambers had been pierced by Addison's smile, Addison's quirked eyebrow, Addison's tinkling laugh.

His eyes burned with intensity. "Addison," he began without preamble, ready to finally heal the fractures between them, and she leaned so close their noses were nearly touching. "I want _you_. I want this. I want him." He looked at Sage, the first child to ever ensnare him with fantasies of fatherhood, and his voice brimmed with stark conviction.

"I want to be the father I never had. I want to watch his soccer games and yell louder than all the other dads because that's my son kicking their kids' asses. I want to know what happily ever after feels like, not watch it from the sidelines all my life. I want to wake up in the morning and feel your breath on my skin, and know, beyond a doubt, that I belong somewhere. I want to die when I'm eighty-seven so I never have to live without you. I want to see you imperfectly and love's fair in war and all that. I want to show you every day, every hour, every minute how much I love you because I know no one's ever done that for you. I want to love you with no inhibitions and no holding back. I want _you_, Addison."

Their eyes sucked at each other's souls, pushing and probing the enigmatic stirrings in the other's irises, and Mark imagined Addison was coming up with something profound as her fist curled hesitantly in her lap, clutching the fabric of the overlarge Columbia hoodie. Then she asked, "Eighty-seven?"

"I don't want to be one of those toothless old people who has to have their diaper changed."

She pondered this. "It's see an imperfect person perfectly, and all's fair in love and war. You suck at clichés."

"No. _We _suck at clichés," he corrected and she let the declaration live.

"_We _have tried this before. I don't have any control around you, Mark, and I hate it, and you don't have any control at all. We both broke a sixty day sex bet."

"About that … I might have … lied," he confessed sheepishly. I didn't break the bet. I just didn't want to make you feel guilty."

"You lied," she stated in disbelief.

"If you love something, set it free."

"Maybe we're not so bad at clichés."

"Trust me, we are. But we're good at other things, so it's okay."

She looked about to argue, to revive all of their restless problems that refused to be banished, but she didn't. It had all been leading to this, and he swore that he must have finally done something God approved of when she whispered, "I love you. I shouldn't, but goddamn it, Mark, I do." It was the only hint of heaven he'd ever been allowed to taste. Addison's fingertips pressed against his cheekbone almost wonderingly, her lips parted, as if she was as unable to believe they were at this moment as he was. "And I don't know what it is about you, but I want to spend the rest of my life finding out," she said, her voice feather light and so tender he felt his heart break.

"I love you. I've loved you ever since I saw you sitting on that bench thinkin' Sage was dead, ever since you pulled that caramel apple from my hands and took my heart with it." He leaned forward as he spoke, carousing in the truest words he'd ever let forth, and he could see her eyelashes fluttering as his warm breath brushed her face, the perfect bow shape of her pomegranate upper lip, he could nearly taste their mouths together.

But she suddenly drew back, startled, as if she'd felt some invisible stirring in the atmosphere he could not. Mark had no way of knowing she'd just experienced the first nudge of movement from their shared child, but his heart plummeted as she pulled away.

"I – I can't. I can't be this person, Mark. If you want me, if you want _us_, you have to break up with Lexie. Not now!" she panicked, nearly sending her and her son sprawling off the couch as she scrambled to catch hold of his forearm. "Not now. For tonight, just hold me."

And that night the picture was finally complete, father, mother, brother, baby, but none of them had even an inkling of the significance of their scattered, touching limbs.

* * *

**They said it, they said it, they said it! Now Mark just has to break up with the preschooler. Which, knowing me, will be more difficult than he thinks, but oh well :D. If anybody gets the parallel/reference in this story to an earlier chapter, bravo.**

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	18. Hurry Up and Wait

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**18. _Hurry Up and Wait_**

**Hey now. I made Addie and Mark say they love each other. Where are my reviews?**

**Not my best chapter, but hey, I figured that at this point I just needed to post it. Sorry for the long wait, but I need inspiration, people. Hurry Up and Wait is by Making April.**

* * *

_One Year Ago: An Almost Ending_

_Pounding feet on delicate blades of grass, pushing the wind against his skull and driving him faster. The smell of grass permeating the air, the strings of frayed cleats with holes so big that toes showed through, a soccer ball missing patches but inflated to perfection, so that when his foot connected with it, it sailed in a perfectly executed arc towards the corner of the goal._

"_Yes!" Sage jumped into the air, celebrating his victory. He received pats on the back from his teammates but nothing more, as if he had a disease that was infectious. The problem was that fifteen-year-old Jesse was on the other team, and Jesse hated the seven-year-old Sage, not only because he had just scored the tenth, winning goal in the orphanage's soccer match._

_As the other boys dispersed, discussing the game, Sage lifted the edge of his ragged Pelé jersey, which he had once picked out of a garbage can, to wick away the sweat that had gathered on his nose. He then headed toward the nearest building of the orphanage complex, picking through grass that was up to his shoulders. _

_When a hand grabbed the back of the jersey, yanking him to a halt and ripping the thin fabric even more, Sage knew he hadn't been fast enough. The ground rushed up to meet Sage quickly, removing a layer of skin from his knees and coating his sweaty face in dirt._

"_Where you think you goin', faggot?" Jesse asked from above him. The fifteen year old was muscled and bulky, only a few weeks from sixteen, and even the older kids of the orphanage avoided him, as he had slightly pyromaniac tendencies. His two cronies, Duncan, who was seventeen and a giant but not to bright, and a kid everyone called Ratter, though Sage was one of the few that knew his real name was Mackenzie, who was small and wiry and fourteen._

_Sage shrugged. With Jesse, less was more. He could probably beg off like some of the other kids, call Jesse 'your majesty' or whatever it was that week and escape, but his pride wouldn't let him. He brought thoughts of his parents to his mind and clutched the key under his shirt as Jesse's foot connected with his stomach and sent him sprawling again. His nose pressed up against the pungent earth, Sage bit his lip to keep from crying out; knowing that doing so would only prolong Jesse's amusement. He braced his body for another blow, but just as Duncan's fist connected with the back of his neck, he heard someone shout, "Hey!"_

_The orphanage employees had long given up on resolving every dispute, before Sage was even born, probably, so the sound of Jesse's body being pushed roughly aside and gentle hands pulling him to his feet were unexpected in the greatest sense of the word._

"_Hey," a man grabbed his shoulder as he staggered, fingering the spot on his neck where a bruise was being born under the tan, muscled skin. "Are you okay?"_

_Still shell-shocked, Sage could only nod mutely and shudder under Jesse's murderous glare which promised they were not done. "Was there a problem?" the man addressed Jesse, but, as his coiled hand still rested on Sage's shoulder, he figured it was safe._

_Cruel and vindictive although he was, Jesse wasn't stupid, he just offered up a smirk and said, "No, sir, nothing wrong," before gesturing to the other boys and disappearing into the trees. Sage nearly sank to his knees in relief._

"_You're bleeding," the woman said, wiping the blood and dirt from his cheek with the soft pad of his thumb, and he cracked a shy smile, wondering if that was what a mother's hand felt like, gentle and loving with a single touch. "My name's Tess, and this is Mason."_

"_I'm Sage. Want me to show you around?"_

"_Sure," Tess replied cautiously. "Can you point us toward the main office?"_

"_Better, I'll take you there," he offered and when Mason smiled and thanked him Tess followed along._

"_So, Sage," Mason asked after a minute. "Who exactly were those boys? Do they do that a lot?"_

"_Yeah," Sage shrugged, "but everyone's too busy with the little kids to care. Jesse was just sore that his team lost the game."_

"_I'm sorry. This isn't an easy place to grow up, is it?" Mason asked sympathetically, hesitating in front of the office._

"_We've got to go now," Tess hinted. "Thank you, Sage."_

_Sage shrugged. "No problem."_

_Tess and Mason were inside for a long time, and even though Sage knew that they were looking at the babies (everyone did) he couldn't extinguish the spark of hope that had sprung up in his chest. Sure, they weren't his _real _parents, but he was willing to take anything other than Jesse and this lonely life._

_Sage was just about to weave a path through tall grass and fireflies to bed because night had fallen when he heard raised voices instead. And he knew it was wrong to listen but that was inherent knowledge; nobody had ever cared enough to teach him._

"_We can't adopt a troubled child, Mason! Look at how he's grown up. These are the kinds of kids who end up in juvie!"_

"_He can't help how he grew up, Tess. He needs us!"_

"_We said a _baby_, Mason. And yes, he's adorable, and of course I feel sorry for him, but we already have a crib and a nursery and … I just couldn't do it."_

"_So we're just going to leave him here …"_

"_He's beautiful. Someone else will want him. Someone else will adopt him."_

_Sage ran after that, unable to bear the swoop of disappointment in his stomach. The dark trees were welcoming, inviting him to forget his worldly cares among their tangled boughs, and Sage collapsed amongst the roots and wished for his real parents._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Meredith let her fingers trail down carefully over the cascade of chiffon that was the skirt of her wedding gown – _the _wedding gown. Sure, she'd never pictured herself as the perfect fairytale princess but this image was tantalizing, those kinds of fantasies had been banned during her childhood and only now was she drawing them out and trying them on for size.

The dress had asymmetrically draped layers that flared out gracefully instead of dramatically, with a portrait neckline and overlapping layers. And, to her delight, the modified empire waist almost completely hid her pregnancy. Not that she minded, but it was nice not to be showing too much. It wasn't overly frilly or girlie but then again, neither was she in any aspect or regard. This dress was her. This dress was her life with Derek.

"Hmm," Cristina commented from behind her. "That one's actually not too bad."

"Thanks," she retorted sarcastically, although she knew coming from Cristina that was practically a declaration of love to the garment.

"Can we pick some dresses for us now? Because I'm getting tired of walking around in my underwear. They're red and mildly embarrassing."

"You could _stay _in the dressing room, you know," she pointed out.

"No, Izzie and Callie and Lexie came out here and I wanted to too and now we're _all _in our underwear … what are you smiling about?"

"Nothing. Baby's kicking," she amended, resting a hand on the bodice her child was currently pummeling with its feet. Just last night, Derek had removed her shirt and rested his chin on the distended skin so he could see the rippling of the kicks as she felt them inside her.

"Did you honestly invite Satan to be a bridesmaid?" Cristina asked, possibly because the discussion was getting too cutesy for her.

"What?" Meredith asked, distracted.

"Well, Izzie mentioned it, but she's not here yet …"

"Addison's not here?" Meredith panicked, stumbling out into the store and narrowly avoiding tripping on her hem.

"Why'd you ask her anyway, Mer?"

"Because, well, we've become friends because of our similar … _predicament."_

"Satan's _pregnant?_" Cristina shrieked right as Addison entered the shop, still in scrubs, her hand resting on the crown of Sage's head. Izzie, Lexie and Callie turned to stare also, and while Callie only smirked, Izzie and Lexie both looked shocked.

"Ohmigod!" Izzie squealed. "A double baby shower. Don't tell me you're planning to keep the sex a secret too. How did the hospital rumor mill _not _get ahold of this?"

"Yes, the sex is a surprise, and I just wore really roomy scrubs, really. Only there's a slight problem." Addison frowned down at her cup, which contained some sort of sloshy drink. "I'm craving Sprite but the baby goes crazy when I drink it."

"What is _he _doing here?" Lexie snapped, glaring at Sage who was staring, openmouthed and blushing, at the scantily clad women.

"Sage is the ring bearer, he's younger than Derek's youngest nephew, and we wanted him to be part of the wedding," Meredith explained simply.

"Sage, honey, cover your eyes," Addison instructed, obviously trying to hide a smile. "And go over there. That man will help you with your suit." Sage stumbled obediently toward the pearl grey garment, hands still over his eyes, and promptly crashed into another clothing rack.

"This is all very cute and fluffy, but can we pick out some dresses now? Because I could be cutting," Cristina huffed.

"You're a sucky maid of honor," Meredith informed her with a giggle.

"While we're on the subject of dresses, can we pick out something … I don't know … loose?" Addison asked. "Normally I don't do loose, but with the baby and all …"

"You still haven't told him?" Meredith muttered as she and Addison began flipping through the racks of bridesmaid dresses. "Hmm, this one is nice."

"I'm not wearing that, Grey," Addison informed her, shoving the dress back in. "And no, I was going to tell him, but I gave him a chance to break up with her first. I just have to know that Sage and I are what he really wants, because if we aren't …" Addison bit her lip. "Well, I would just have to know so I don't get my hopes up."

"You've been practically living at his apartment when you're not at my house. You're telling me he didn't notice?"

"The wonders of baggy sweats and layers," Addison shrugged. "I'm sure he suspects _something_, but he hasn't quite figured it out yet."

"Speaking of houses," Meredith made a face at a truly awful peach dress, "What about yours? Did you decide to buy it?"

"Yeah, we did, and we move in two weeks from now. Speaking of which, I think I left the papers at your house. I have a surgery at two but I'll come by later."

"You should tell him."

"Yeah."

"How about this one?" Both women spun around to find Lexie holding up a pale yellow dress, made purely out of satin and proportioned in a way that would not made a pregnancy too evident, at least not at first glance. Meredith gushed about it with unparalleled enthusiasm, trying to distract herself from the hints she and Addison had unknowingly dropped throughout their conversation and wondering how much, exactly, Lexie had heard.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

As a chiming bell rang out through a house that had become a sanctuary to bows and ribbons, flower petals and whispered details, Derek sighed, realizing his mother had probably moved her flight up; she was supposed to arrive that night.

Meredith and Addison were upstairs, nesting habits abound as they cleaned up the remains of the soft yellow paint Meredith had selected for the nursery. Derek stroked his razor across his face a second time before calling, "Sage! Can you get the door?"

"Sure," the boy replied, his game controller clattering to the floor as Derek heard the soft patter of feet against hardwood. He maneuvered the razor faster, but the outcome was inevitable: Sage was going to meet his mother. Derek cringed.

The front door creaked, Derek brought forth Sage's confused expression in his mind. "Who are you?"

"Carolyn Shepherd," his mother replied, clearly affronted. "Who are you?"

"This is Sage," Derek interjected, hurrying into the room. "Hello, Ma. Sage, this is my mother. You can call her Grandma Shepherd."

"Grandma Shepherd?" Carolyn asked with raised eyebrows. Derek wondered when the brilliant red hair, delicate facial structure, and certain mannerisms would register. Or maybe, if his suspicions about the boy's paternity were correct, it would be the set of Sage's jaw, the arrangement of his facial features, and the sleek athleticism that she would notice first.

"Hi," Sage supplied with a charming grin, and his mother's stance relaxed. Sure, she was curious almost beyond measure about who Sage was, but as the boy took her coat to hang it near the door (apparently the orphanage had installed such manners in all the children) she was won over.

"Lovely to meet you, Sage, whoever you are," she rested a hand on his sun-kissed locks. "Forgive me, it must just be my imagination, but you look almost exactly like Mark did as a child."

"Really? I look like Dr. Mark?" Sage's delight was evident, and guilt curled in Derek stomach; perhaps it was wrong to not reveal his suspicions about his father. But telling Mark and Addison now, when their relationship was so tenuous, balanced on the tip of the knife, lurching toward freefall with even the most gentle breezes, he would not be able to guarantee a positive outcome.

"Yes, you sure do." What would his mother think when she found out who Sage's mother was … He didn't have long to ponder it; Meredith appeared at the top of the stairs and he couldn't help but try to envisage her in the wedding dress she'd told him she picked out today. "Ah, Meredith, I've been waiting to see my son's fiancée and mother of my next grandchild again."

Meredith offered an apprehensive smile and stepped into Carolyn's waiting arms. "Great to see you again too, Mrs. Shepherd," she said politely, but it was lost on his mother, who was now looking over Meredith's shoulder to where Addison stood, looking positively green. She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow in classic Addison fashion, however, when she saw Carolyn pull back from Meredith and place a hand on Sage's shoulder.

"Hello, Carolyn," Addison said warily.

"Addison." At first his mother barely spared his ex-wife a glance, but then she apparently noticed the unmistakable bump in Addison's stomach also. "Congratulations," she said stiffly, and Addison nodded. Derek saw an explosion in the making and quickly tried to think of a few key diffusion methods, but unfortunately came up blank.

"Sage, honey, please pick up your pajamas off the floor and turn off your game if you're not going to play it," Addison told her son in a brave stab at breaking the tension-ridden atmosphere.

Carolyn's hand slipped from Sage's shoulder, she regarded the boy in absolute shock. "Sage is … Sage is – but – how is this possible?"

"He's my son, my biological son," Addison sad in a low voice. "Bizzy gave him up for adoption and told me he died in a car crash. Then –" Addison began, but she was interrupted by the whirlwind of his sisters as their voices filtered through the partially opened door.

"Well, it's not my fault I had to dig my stuff out from underneath Nancy's. I swear she packs almost as many shoes as …" Kathleen was clearly in the lead, she pushed open the front door without hesitation but stopped short a second later, apparently the situation they had landed themselves in was enough to make even his psychiatrist sister pause. "… Addison," she finished.

"ADDIE!" the other three screamed upon hearing his ex-wife's name; she was smothered in seconds. "You look amazing, Addison. Where did you get this bag? Oh my god, she's pregnant! You're pregnant?? Who's the father?"

"Nice to see you too," Addison laughed, rolling her eyes at him. Meredith and Sage were both staring, identical looks of apprehension on their faces at the sight of his crazy sisters.

"Meredith," Nancy said politely after a minute. "Good to see you again. How are you?"

"I'm … good. Very pregnant, but good," Meredith said cautiously. Derek gave her an encouraging smile. His other sisters introduced themselves too, and he was relieved that they were being perfectly friendly.

"We _are _going to talk," Nancy informed Addison in an aside they all heard. "And you _will _tell me everything."

"Mom?" Sage whispered in Addison's ear, although they could all hear him. "Who are they?"

"Mom?" his sisters all shrieked again at the same time.

"Nancy, Kathleen, Emily, Nicole, this is Sage, my son," Addison said with a smile. "Sage, these are Derek's sisters."

"Your aunts," Derek added quickly.

"He's adorable!" they all squealed, and Sage blushed.

"How old is he?" Nancy asked.

"Eight," Sage informed them shyly, and they all smiled.

"Addison … how is this possible? I mean, judging by the resemblance, he has to be yours biologically. But … how? You didn't have some kid you didn't tell us about, did you? I mean, before the baby you lost in the car crash when you were with Derek," Kathleen asked, studying Addison and Sage closely.

"He didn't die in the car crash," Addison whispered, and his sister's mouths fell open in shock.

"Then … how?" Emily asked in a whisper.

"Sage was raised in a boy's home here in Seattle. Bizzy gave him up for adoption, forged my signature, and told me he didn't survive."

"No," they gasped, looking from Derek to Addison, but he nodded.

Dropping an arm around Meredith's shoulders in an attempt to ease the discomfort painted all over her face, Derek tugged her toward the stairs and gestured subtly to his mother. "Ma, Meredith has been working on the nursery …"

Carolyn got the hint and followed them upstairs, Sage scampering quickly after them, celery colored eyes wide, and as they escaped Derek caught a glimpse of Kathleen forcing Addison into a chair. "You will tell us who the father is, Addison Forbes Montgomery, or so help me …"

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

His heels hit the legs of his chair as he swung them, thumping out a steady beat parallel to that of his heart as he tried to figure out how to broach this topic. His mother was wolfing down the famous cafeteria chocolate chip muffins like there was no tomorrow and he watched her over the top of his lemonade cup as the tart liquid swirled around his mouth.

They were meeting his Uncle Archer at the hospital, as Addison thought having him at Derek and Meredith's with Derek's mother and sisters (they had barely escaped the sisters in time for her three o'clock c-section) would make an explosively awkward situation that much worse. Derek had offered up his sisters as aunts for Sage, because, as he said, he would feel sorry for Sage if Archer was his only relative. Still, his uncle was the reason his mother had come to Seattle in the first place, all those months ago, and appreciation for the extraordinary coincidence was the only emotion Sage could summon.

"Mom?" he probed cautiously.

"Hmm?" She clearly had as much on her mind as he did.

He chickened out. "Can I have one?"

Addison contemplated the last chocolate confection of a muffin, shrugged, and bit into it. "No. The baby's making me crave Sprite _again _but I can't have Sprite because then it'll go crazy, so I have to satiate it with chocolate muffins."

"About the baby …"

"What about the baby?"

"About the father …" Addison narrowed her eyes and Sage knew he hovered at the edge of the figurative cliff, curiosity eating away at the manners the orphanage had worked so hard to protect. "It's Dr. Mark, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

Addison choked, spewing chocolate globs all over the plaintive cafeteria table and staring at him as if she'd never seen him before. "What?" she spluttered.

"You said you loved him," Sage explained with a casual shrug. "At his apartment, two weeks ago, I heard you say you love him."

They were both bathed in silence, Sage's spring green eyes calm, reasonable, assured in his perception of the truth, while his mother's were ocean-blue, shocked, confused, contemplative. "You were supposed to be _asleep_!" she finally hissed, more in mortification than anger.

"You were arguing and I woke up, but the conversation sounded … important," he smirked, "so I decided not to interrupt."

She released a sigh. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"So is he?"

"So is he what?" A slightly mocking voice, infused with laughter, inquired as a wickedly grinning man with chestnut brown hair approached them.

"Yes he is, Sage, and none of your business, Archer."

"Somebody's delighted to see me," the man said in a singsong voice, not put off at all. "You look different, sis."

Addison only rolled her eyes, folding a hand across her stomach under the table. "Archer, this is my son Sage. Sage, this is you Uncle Archer. I recommend you exercise caution."

Sage scrunched his nose. "Whatever that means."

His uncle laughed out loud. "Hey, I like this kid already. Nice to meet you. You ever need corrupting or a hot date, don't hesitate to call." He ruffled Sage's hair affectionately.

Addison stood, nudging her brother as she did so. "He's eight, Archer. Eight. Remind me again while you're here?"

"Well, Derek didn't exactly invite me yet, but I though since the bastard saved my life the least I could do was show up at his wedding."

"Nice."

"Hey, don't complain, you're gonna need help with the baby."

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He liked it best when the sun caressed her hair, because if he squinted _just so_ he caught a glimpse of auburn. The truth is that he was caught in a web of guilt, guilt because he couldn't just break up with Lexie over the phone while she was visiting Molly and Laura, guilt because he spent every instant he had to spare with Addison or her son.

The two of they were careful not to ignite even a spark of gossip about their relationship and resolved to keep things entirely platonic. Addison understood his reluctance to heartlessly dump Lexie via phone but now his girlfriend had been back for two days and he still hadn't done it.

He drove Sage to soccer practice on the days that Addison could not and, more often than not, stayed to watch Sage's agile grace against boys almost twice his age. The first time he took Sage to practice, the coach introduced himself, said it was great to finally meet Sage's father, and wanted to know whether Mark had played soccer since his 'son' had such an affinity for it. Mark had been too shocked to correct him about Sage's parentage, or maybe too hopeful that someday he could stand in as a father figure for him. He wasn't sure.

"So," Lexie said coyly as she pranced around his couch, scantily clad and obviously making another futile attempt to seduce him (almost kissing Addison aroused him far more than tumbling around in the sheets with Lexie's clumsy eagerness).

"So," Mark replied tonelessly, turning away, trying to ignore that flash of red in the sun.

"I was thinking we could go out to dinner," she said innocently.

"Yeah, that would be, uh, good," he drawled, seeing his opportunity. He wasn't sure exactly how to phrase to Lexie that he was in love with Addison and always had been but he thought that a restaurant would give her the option of walking out after his admission if she so chose.

"Good." Her smile was all childlike charm, and Mark simply didn't see it coming. "I'll tell my dad you agreed. He'll be delighted. He's been wanting to meet you."

As their eyes met, his frustrated, hers triumphant, he wondered if she somehow suspected about all the sunshiny days with Addison, all the movie nights with her son, and the amount of time they'd all spent together in his apartment over the last two weeks. She'd ensnared him – he couldn't break up with her while her father was there which meant another night spent away from the woman invading his dreams every night.

* * *

**Remember people, inspiration. And trust me when I say the next chapter is one you've been waiting for. And now I'm just procrastinating because school is starting tomorrow. Grr. Junior year is going to impair my writing time. On a happier note, guess who's 16 and can drive now ... :D**

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	19. Dark Blue

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**19. _Dark Blue_**

**Yeah, I know it's late. I'm sorry. I have been disgustingly busy. Anyway, I suspect you want to read now, and I did say this was the one you've been waiting for (well, I think most people have been waiting for it. Fans of Lexie have not been waiting for it. Btw, she is soooo annoying on the show! I can barely stand it!) Anyway, Dark Blue is a song by Jack's Mannequin.**

* * *

_She was submerged in a shallow world that blossomed in the presence of abundant small talk and glossed over rumors. The taste of champagne was melancholy against her tongue, because the bubbly alcohol whispered of abundant possibilities that existed outside the walls, adventures that involved the rolling waves of azure sea and the mismatched maze of shell white houses._

_Addison smiled vaguely at the hundredth perverted friend of her parents that insisted on checking out her ass in her shimmering white dress. Naomi was enduring the ramblings of Addison's great aunt Chrysanthemum, Addison didn't pity her there, the woman had probably extracted every possible detail about Sam, his family, and his habits._

_Spotting Bizzy walking determinedly toward her with some rich acquaintances, Addison quickly took a detour to the bathroom. Catching Naomi's eye, she nodded subtly before disappearing into the labyrinth of terracotta and locating a window. Dropping one heel-clad foot over it, Addison wobbled slightly as she ducked into the lush darkness and ended up sprawled in the moist, manicured grass of the villa's lawn._

_Naomi tumbled down a second later, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs and hushed complaints. Addison could hear Bizzy calling for her from where she crouched in the night, but after a few moments the calls faded and Addison and Naomi mounted the ledge overlooking the jumbled white rooftops of Santorini._

"_Ready for this?" Addison asked her friend as they started down the hill, stumbling slightly due to a touch of drunkenness and their ridiculous high heels._

"_Cute Greek boys, alcohol, and dancing? What's not to be ready for?" Naomi returned with a feral grin._

_She smiled back, looked upon the glowing city with eager eyes, and followed the haunting strains of music, but the tingling in her belly suggested the end of her world as she knew it._

_¸.*¨)(¨*·.¸_

_A cheery whistle left his lips as he hustled through the packed Santorini streets. Those who walked the night were wakening as the sun sunk below the distant horizon, painting the sea in a rainbow of colors. Mark, however, was more interested in the bright clothes, or lack thereof, of the women who roamed the streets heading for the dazzling bright taverns._

_He made his way to the one best known for dancing, also one of the few he hadn't been thrown out of yet. If his parents had intended for him to find purpose in Greece, and if Derek and his family had hoped that he would, Mark couldn't have said he was making a lot of progress._

_The girls fell easily into his arms and almost as easily into his bed, as they had all his life._

_Mark arrived at the bar, already bursting with lively music and young couples moving their bodies wildly. He shouldered his tall, muscled form through the crowd to the bar, intent on his ritual drink, but a flash of brilliant gold turned his head. A second later he was sure he imagined it, but as he nursed drink after drink, ensuring that this night would not be remembered in the morning, he felt _something, _something so concrete and real that he stood, unable to bear the smothering atmosphere anymore._

_He wove his way through dancers and drinkers and lovers until he reached the upper floor. At first glance, he thought it deserted, but his world exploded in a burst of color as she turned, a curtain of brightest ocher swirling around her face._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Sage lay belly down in fragrant green grass, his eyes flashing between the ocher butterfly flitting near his left ear and the wild and crazy wedding preparations occurring in the park before him. Personally, he didn't understand the panic over satin ribbons and cake temperatures and flower arrangements. To him, it was simple.

His job was to carry the rings down the aisle after the bridesmaids and maid of honor, Cristina, and before Mary Kate, a niece of Derek's who was going to be the flower girl. If this was a standard example of all the preparation that went into weddings, Sage was pretty sure he would be taking Cristina's advice and heading to Vegas (whatever that meant.)

Sage sighed and rolled onto his back, pulling at the stiff, expensive grey material of his designer suit as he wished for a soccer ball and a mud splattered uniform. His eyes romed over to Derek, wore aggravation gracefully as he greeted guest after guest, Owen, Sam, and a dark haired man Sage didn't recognize beside him. Meredith had long ago been buried in the tidings and flitterings of her bridesmaids, with the exception of Cristina, who appeared to be trying to persuade the catering staff to give her free alcohol.

A commotion near the small building that housed the human structure of the wedding propelled Sage to his feet, and he was not surprised to find it involved his mother. The mystic connection that manifested the day she first cared for him in the ER had only waxed in potency. Sage tugged at his collar again as he secured a position in an alcove near the entrance, which was open warm salutations of midsummer.

The intrinsic instinct that had propelled him was not surprised to find his mother and Mark squaring off; their disputes, especially after their declaration of supposed love, left tiny cuts in unexplored places inside him, places no one had been able to touch before.

"Addie, do you know where the bathroom is?" Mark asked as he intercepted the mostly dressed, half-curled body of his mother.

"Yeah, at the end of the hall on the left." Sage winced; her tone bespoke of peril. "You'll see a sign on the door indicating it's for gentlemen. Ignore it and go right in."

Sage bit his lip as Mark's expression turned indignant at Addison's not-so-subtle dig. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" Addison's voice reached shriek proportions. "My problem? My problem, Mark, is that your girlfriend is in the dressing room going on about how you two are just '_taking a break._' After all that's happened … I guess I should have known. I shouldn't have trusted you."

As Addison severed the connection between the two, pushing against Mark's white dress shirt and tearing through their lingering connection, he wondered why this foretelling of their personal Armageddon of their disaster was turning his bright summer day grey.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He had been, by various homecoming committees, gossiping nurses, and an assortment of other (mostly female) entities dubbed a modern knight in shining armor plucked straight from an ancient fairytale, but he'd never felt it. Not until now.

He could barely reign himself in as Weiss initiated the trip down the aisle with Savvy on his arm, followed by Sam and Naomi, Alex and Izzie, George and Lexie, Callie and Paul, his favorite brother in law, and Addison and Archer. Cristina, the maid of honor, trotted, clearly irate, Derek shivered in anticipation beside Mark, the best man, clearly submerged in troubled thought though he did not possess a spare strand of thought for thought for his best friend as he knew the bride was next.

All previous assumptions, notions, beliefs he'd held dear, were cast aside as Meredith began her trip down the aisle on the arm of Richard Webber. He thought he knew the beauty of her delicate caramel curls, often rumpled after surgery, and of the eyes that changed color with the rain, from soft green to cloudy grey back to green again. Derek was forced to accept, however, that perhaps he'd never saw her until that moment, drifting down the aisle, eyes blind to the beauty of their wedding, intent on only him.

He'd thought he knew what marriage went when wedded to Addison, but those vows rotted and frayed and were eventually broken. Now, as Richard placed Meredith's delicate hand in his and he felt the usual sparkle of their chemistry, he knew that this time, this final time, fate or God or whatever had brought him and Meredith together had at long last gotten it right.

The minister probably performed a fairly routine ceremony, but although Derek absorbed the emotions as eagerly as a parched sponge, he couldn't retain the words that were uttered in his presence. Not when Meredith was beside him, ready to marry him. Not when she stole glances at him from underneath her veil and then quickly turned back to the pastor as they both reminded themselves to wait.

It was the longest three-and-a-half minutes of his life, longer than waiting for the results of her pregnancy test a few months ago and longer than sitting in a hallway, heart numb and beating only out of instinct, as he waited to hear if she survived her fall into Elliot Bay.

There were words, probably, about life and commitment and children and sickness. Mark probably rolled his eyes a half a dozen times while secretly gauging Addison's reaction, Savvy and Weiss probably shared a smile, Sage most likely stifled a yawn or two, and the child he'd created almost certainly pummeled the walls of Meredith's uterus. But if those things had occurred, Derek didn't know. And when the words, "I do," met the air, he could never be sure, even years later, who had uttered them.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Wandering around the dance floor at her ex-husband's second marriage, light refracting off her unshed tears, Addison only barely managed to avoid the volatile forms of the furiously fighting Owen and Cristina while she searched for her son. From what she gathered, shoving aside pastel layers of chiffon and cologne spritzed tuxedos, Owen refused the sarcastic resident in on a cardiac trauma surgery and now she was refusing to dance with him or withholding sex. Or that was the gist of it, from what Addison could tell.

Sage was probably sampling the large, strawberry confection of the cake, if she knew him at all, but navigating the maze of dancing, chatting, congratulating, and arguing people in the upscale hall Derek and Meredith had chosen for their reception was not easy.

She had just spotted a red mop of hair and a mustache composed of frosty pink icing when her forearm was captured in a binding warm grasp.

"Let go of me, Mark!" Why, when her life reached the zenith of drama, did the dance floor have to organize so that any face-off with Mark would be on perfect display? What, honestly, had she done to deserve it?

"I want to talk to you." She hated his wounded puppy look. Absolutely hated it, because it evaporated her resistance exactly when she needed it most.

"I can't talk to you. I need to go find –"

"Sage is fine. Kid's eaten half the cake already," Mark countered, his brilliantly blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"I -"

"No excuses, Addison."

"I don't _want _to talk to you, Mark! What about that do you not understand?" she exploded, drawing detested attention to the bright, tangled strands of their conflict.

"Dance with me then," he whispered.

"What? No!" she protested, trying to reclaim her arm from his firm grasp before she lost her mind entirely to the dizzying sensation of their touching skin.

"Dance with me, Addison," he commanded, and without further ado, swept her into the rotating couples effortlessly while her face turned red with fury.

"Stop touching me! You did it again, Mark! You made me love you against my better judgment and convinced me that this time, this time of all times, that you cared. But you don't. You fucking don't and now what the hell am I supposed to tell Sage? What am I supposed to tell my son? We stayed here for you!"

"Addie, listen …"

"I don't want your excuses, Mark," she fumed, steeling her heart against whatever entrancing truth he was about to tell her next. She couldn't hear it anymore. The cracks in her heart were so deep that another blow might shatter her.

"I've been trying to break up with her. I want to freaking break up with her, alright, Addison? But -" Mark went so still and cold that Addison felt genuine concern for his health, and for all her pretenses she knew that living in a world in which Mark did not exist might not have been in her realm of possibility.

"Mark?" she whispered urgently, unbending her pride. They stood, a lone tribute in a sea of undulating figures as Mark stared into her eyes and she felt frantically for the beating of his heart. "Mark!"

When he spoke, his voice was anomalously calm, like the small tranquil patch in the center of a hurricane. "You kept this one," he said tonelessly.

All the breath whooshed out of Addison's body as she looked down to see that the slight curve of her belly was pressed up against the fastenings of his tuxedo, courtesy of their argument. "I … yeah," she said lamely.

All of the sudden he was as effused in the shock and wonder of their developing baby as she was, it ripped her heart just a little to see that his enjoyment of the news was stained by worry, worry maybe that this wasn't for real, that she wasn't keeping it after all, that maybe it was a dream.

His words didn't form easily. "T-that night in … we've having a baby? We're having a baby and you've known for … five months?" His eyes held encrypted secrets of his emotions that she couldn't decipher.

"Yes," she admitted.

They spun in a world burgeoning in enchantment they had just started to discover, and now, at the impasse they'd reached, they could do little but stare into each other's eyes. Mark's warm breath caressed her neck, sending tingles shooting all throughout her body, awakening nerves she hadn't known she possessed until she met him.

He hadn't broken up with Lexie. She hadn't told him that she was pregnant. They were even.

The only hue in the room was the deep indigo of his tuxedo, the color of his dancing eyes. They were caught in a flood of overpowering emotion. She couldn't think, could hardly breathe, but all their lies and chemistry and lust and love was morphing into some form of eternal combustion that ended with her lips scraping across his jawbone, almost kissing but just not quite there.

"Can I cut in?" Lexie's syrupy voice interrupted their private fantasy, and Mark and Addison's arms dropped guiltily, automatically, like some master puppeteer had halted their actions. She mourned his warmth the instant he was gone, and the baby squirmed, as if protesting the absence of his or her father.

Lexie eyed Mark possessively and wrapped her body around him, reminding Addison why she had strove to keep her distance from him in the first place. She was sure the intern knew she was disrupting something, and yet Addison couldn't deny she was the one with the right to have Mark's strong arms wrapped around her.

So Addison took a leaf out of Derek's book and spun on the heel of her three inch stilettos, the loose, buttery gold silk swishing around her legs as she did. She couldn't look at Mark anymore, she had to trust that Sage would be safe, because although the sky had finally given up her battle with the insistent clouds and let tears pour forth from the heavens, Addison still shouldered her way through the crowd and out into the pounding crystal droplets.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Meredith ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

Meredith let forth a tinkling laugh as the drama-filled reception unfolded around her. Safe and secure in Derek's arms, confident that he was hers and only hers at last, she could watch the relationship trauma of others with sanguine amusement. She tucked her chin against the black lapel of her new husband's tux and settled in for the show.

Cristina was dancing with Owen, if she could have called it dancing, that is. The couple revolved almost a full foot apart, as Owen hadn't let her in on a surgery she desperately wanted (Arizona had her on a peds case and he refused to let her off) and now she was withholding sex and most forms of touching.

Izzie had already had a bit too much champagne and was drunkenly trying to convince Alex that because Meredith and Addison were having babies, that meant she should get one too. It didn't look to Meredith like her bubbly blonde friend was having much success in the bundle of joy department, but, as the child inside her moved, she thought that having two babies between their strangely convoluted web of friends/not friends was enough.

Callie and Arizona were looking, for the most part, peaceful, although Derek's rather conservative aunt was eyeing them furiously. Both were unaware of their observer, but the woman's fierce glare was enough to make Meredith wince and search for a port in the impending storm.

Derek spun her around, the white dress twirling gracefully with them, just in time to see Addison abandon Mark and Lexie for the rainy tempest outside. From the stunned look on Mark's face, Meredith suspected that the baby had finally been revealed. But even as he took her half-sister into his arms, she knew he was pondering the newest development with a shock that was turning rapidly into endeared delight.

"We have strange friends," she commented.

"That we do," Derek grinned. "I, however, am glad that we are finally not the subject of all the gossip this wedding will create."

"Me too," she chuckled.

"After all we went through, I think we deserve happiness."

"It isn't a question of deserving," Meredith observed as she thought of the pregnant redhead outside in the torrential downpour, but before she could contemplate such sobering thoughts further Derek swept her up in a searing kiss and the cameras began to flash.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He was a father. Literally, utterly, a father to a five month old fetus that was half the woman he loved and half himself.

A father.

The world for him was so multicolored, so bright, that all he could do, for the first few seconds after her departure, was enjoy it.

A kid was going to call him Daddy.

"I have to go," he told Lexie simply, stepping away from the biggest lie of his life.

"What? But – the reception just star – you mean go after _her_?"

Lexie's voice was fraught with danger, it painted a picture of a life he did not want to live. He accused Derek, his best friend, of running away, but how the hell was he any better when he ducked and avoided and tiptoed around his life.

"Yes."

"She left, Mark. She doesn't want you and she never has. You're living in a fantasy world. I'm here now, Mark! I'm real!" By the end she was yelling and sobbing simultaneously, anger blazing in her flat brown eyes that he had once suspected of holding so many mysteries.

"But Lex … I'm not."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

And just like that, he was done. Just like that, he raised his eyes to the beautifully carved door that showcased the brewing storm, and he knew. "That means I'm not letting my unborn child and the woman carrying him or her get hypothermia in that damn storm."

It was less than eloquent, but it got the point across. Lexie gaped and Mark was suddenly aware that the entire room had gotten rather quiet. At one time he might have felt shame, uncertainty, reluctance, but now he only counted the seconds until he was able to behold his baby and the love of his life once again.

"It's _your _baby? All this time, she was carrying _your _baby?" Lexie threw her arms into the air, stretching the foot of space between them a little further. It was like a damn soap opera because nobody bothered to interrupt their dancing, but they all turned to watch.

"You're right," she finally admitted. "You're not in this, and you never have been. Addison's lucky to have always held the key to your heart. I thought you were in this, at first. I thought the night I came to your hotel room that maybe you wanted me too. But it's always been her, hasn't it?"

"I'm the lucky one," Mark stated firmly before hurrying out into the pouring rain. The pounding moisture plastered his hair to his skull and caused his clothes to cling to his muscled form as he sprinted, after a few seconds he was forced to ditch his jacket. He was unsure how far Addison had gotten, as after her revelation time had ceased to exist for him. She left her son and her purse with her cell phone inside, however, so he suspected she couldn't have gotten far.

And then she was there, on a bench in the rain, just as she had been when he first saw her. The drizzle caused her scarlet waves to curl gently around her flawless face, which was illuminated by the bare drops of sunlight filtering out from behind the insistent clouds. She turned as he approached, splashing water as he ran, hoping, pleading, that this time he would not be too late.

She stood slowly, at the other side of the street, drawing closer in the tiny amounts he had suddenly slowed down to. Then she was rushing forward and in his arms, her damp, cool skin igniting sparks against his. Her hands fumbled with his lapels, as if wanting to reassure he was real.

"You came after me," she whispered finally.

"I always come after you," he crooned gently, pushing an errant tangle of hair back behind her ear. The silk of her beautiful dress was ruined but feeling it against his bare skin where his shirt had gotten push up when she threw herself in his arms.

"How very cliché," she grinned slightly.

"How very unlike us," he observed, remembering their conversation of a month ago.

"This might be more like us," she said, and leaned forward to fuse their lips in a passionate embrace. At first her mouth was cold, with lingering drops of mist, but he pecked and sucked gently until she was sighing and they were breathing each other in so deeply he couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

When she finally pulled away to rest her cheek against his collarbone, he was thoroughly convinced that he was submerged in yet another dream. Then again, he thought, as he felt the flutter of her eyelashes on his wet skin, he wasn't this creative. This kind of perfection couldn't be derived from him alone.

"I've always, always wanted you," he told her.

"I know you have. I was stupid and scared and I just … you make everything so real and I never," she let out a little sob as her hands flailed helplessly, "nobody's supposed to be able to do that to me. I mean, I'm a mess, Mark! Look at me! I'm divorced and I'm alone and I have two kids and you drive me completely crazy!"

"I love you, Addison."

"I cheated on my husband! I aborted a baby! I moved to fucking Seattle and I slept with you again and it was all so messed up. And I went to LA and Archer almost died and I came back and you didn't break up with her!"

"I love you, Addison."

"Know where my kids were conceived, Mark? In the bathroom of a _bar_, in my husband's bed with a man who was not my husband, and poor Sage was made on a rooftop in Santorini."

"I – wait, what?"

"My point is that I'm clearly not normal and it's all your fault!"

"No, what did you say about Sage?" Hearts didn't naturally beat this fast, did they? He must have imagined that last comment. He was already going insane enough …

"I met his father in Greece, I must have told you about it before -"

"No. You didn't."

"But why does it even …" She stopped mid-sentence, strawberry lips opening. "No. No …"

* * *

**Soo ... I need some advice here. I can't guarantee that I'll listen to it, but I'll ask you all anyway. Originally, there was only supposed to be one more chapter before the epilogue of this story, which would fill in all the gaps of what happened after. Obviously there is more to be told with Sage and Addie and Mark, but I felt like this was a natural place to end it - in the next chapter, especially because I have another story I want to start. But there is more I could write ... What does everyone think?**

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	20. She Will Be Loved

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**20. _She Will Be Loved_**

**Yeah, this is such a Maddison song (by Maroon 5, duh). I recommend listening to it. Also, this is pretty short, but I just wanted to tie up a few loose ends, there's still an epilogue to come.**

* * *

_Nine Years Ago: The End of the Beginning_

_Mark stood emblazoned in the doorway, surety filling his body but uncertainty controlling his mind. The woman's dress was glowing in soft moonlight, tinting her skin a light periwinkle and painting her in a guise of fantasy._

_He'd never seen a Disney movie until he met Derek, and by then he was more likely to scoff at Kathleen and Nancy's obsession than actually watch, but it was kind of hard to doubt their existence at that moment. What else could explain the fluttering of his heart, the constricting of his lungs, the feeling that he was being simultaneously drowned and saved?_

_The girl was still staring at him, her Caribbean Isle eyes narrowed in suspicion, and, unless he was fooling himself, a considering curiosity. He grinned widely at her, alcohol spurring him on, and she returned the smile, blushing slightly and staring at her feet, the fancy shoes of which lay beside her._

"_Hey," she whispered, her voice catching in the slight breeze, and he was surprised (he'd been planning to speak first; he'd followed her after all)._

"_Hey," he responded, beer and scotch and whiskey inspiring confidence. "What're you doing up here?"_

"_I just needed to … get away," she sighed, fingers twisting the hem of the white magnolia dress that hugged her graceful curves with a perfection that left his mouth dry and heart racing._

"_I know how that is," he responded, stepping adjacent to her and staring out into the stars._

"_Really?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him, turning to face him challengingly, a hand on her hip. He noticed belatedly that maybe she wasn't as steady as she looked at first; he was sure more alcohol than was in half-gone long island iced tea was racing through her veins._

"_Really," he confirmed, "But I doubt you want to hear about my crappy childhood when we could forget it all instead."_

_Her outward appearance was skeptical, but he could see interest and longing burning in her eyes, as if she wished to know what was beyond normal societal constraints and out in the streets of the lower city, where legendary creatures had once walked and gods dipped their hands into the fray to intervene where they willed._

_He leaned in closely, just until her eyes fluttered shut, and then grabbed her hand instead, eyeing the distance from the window to the cloth covered booth below. "I'll show you," he promised, grinning wickedly, pulling her from the building pulsing with music and out into the night._

_Neither knew that she would lick spicy sauce from his fingers as he showed her food different from the Americanized crap her parents served, nor that she would kiss him afterward, just to share the taste. Neither knew that they would get, if possible, drunker than they already were, that they would dance on a roof, he'd give her his necklace, and finally, they'd make love under the moon._

_And it wasn't until nine years later that the parents of the child conceived on that night in Santorini would recognize each other for who they were._

* * *

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

"No." The word fell from her lips a third time, but it had little impact on her current circumstance, on the flabbergasted expression decorating the perfectly carved face of Mark Sloan, on the fact that the answer had been in front of her eyes for years and she hadn't known it.

"April 2000," Mark muttered, and she experienced the unique sensation of butterflies shooting down her spine and then erupting in various locales throughout her body as she recalled her child's – her oldest child's – conception on a rooftop in Greece. The memories were blurred and frayed and coffee-stained but still potent enough to steal her breath away.

But it could _not _have been Mark on that night. She would have remembered. She would have known the day he sat beside her outside Archer's party and offered her a candy apple to assuage what pain he could. It was so utterly impossible, so completely unlikely that the man she swore never to love again and her mysterious lover of nearly a decade ago were the same person, much less that he, she, and the son she believed was dead were all united in Seattle on the same day.

Mark was speaking. "What?" Her voice cracked.

"Derek. He – he asked where I was in April of 2000," Mark admitted shakily. "I told him, and he got the weirdest look on his face, and – I just can't believe …" He trailed off and wiped the clinging droplets of rain from his upper lip with his soaking sleeve, and all Addison wanted to do was kiss him.

She hadn't only loved Mark throughout her entire marriage to another man, she'd loved him before she'd ever met Derek, before she knew Sage existed, before she even completely knew herself. He'd fathered all three of the children she'd ever been pregnant with, he rendered her completely helpless with just one crystal blue glance, and the way he was currently gazing at her, like a man seeing light for the first time, stole all her resistance until she was cradled in his arms again.

They were flawed, they both were. But together they made a whole person, a whole soul, instead of their usual fragments of one. Their lips met under the pouring rain, melting them into the one entity they were always meant to be. Every strand of hair that his talented fingers touched became a livewire, every inch of her silk-clothed skin sung like a strummed harp as one of his hands skimmed down her shoulder to settle on her hip.

She pushed her tongue into his mouth, relishing in the feeling she had felt so many times but could never, ever get enough of. As their lips moved in a silent, tender tango, she was reminded of how he was always there, had always been there, had always … always loved her. "I love you," she breathed when they broke for air.

"I love you too," he whispered roughly against her cheek. "You'll always be loved.

"I know. You're the most patient man I've ever met," she choked, but her laments of wasted time were cut off by his lips and his tongue, spelling heaven against her desperate mouth.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Derek ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

The sky was impossibly blue, the kind of blue it was tinted in the dreams that now couldn't even compare to reality. Seattle shrunk away slowly below the streamlined form of their plane, but his wife already slept beside him, her chin tucked into the curve of her arm, which rested on their shared armrest. He placed his hand gently on the curve of her stomach, but apparently their child was sleeping as well because he felt no movement.

Hawaii waited out in the distance, over the undulating blue of the Pacific Ocean below them and under the fantastical cloud shapes. Derek had always assumed happiness to be a feeling, but he could smell it in the tantalizing lavender of Meredith's golden curls, taste it in the first class champagne on his tongue, see it in the two people slumbering beside him, and hear it in Meredith's gentle snores.

They had a lot ahead of them – building a house in the deep emerald woods he owned, upholding careers and finishing residencies with a baby on the way, figuring out their new state of 'married.' It wouldn't always be easy – Derek knew that firsthand – but he had never felt so inspired in his life, not when he cut open his first brain, nor had his first kiss, nor even saw Meredith for the first time – because now he got to see her everyday, and experience every kiss, every smile, every laugh.

They'd ran out of their marriage showered in rice – he still had some in uncomfortable places – out to the little old fashioned red convertible Addison had lent them to get to the airport as soon as possible. Meredith had eaten two cinnamon sugar pretzels, a mini pizza, and a parfait before they even made it through security, and then they ended up at the gate right next to Starbucks, which she proceeded to ransack as well. He'd merely laughed, thinking about the nutrients being transferred to their growing child (the sex of which Addison would still not reveal, no matter how he bribed her).

They'd watched the planes come in calmly and had been surprised when people asked whether they were newlyweds heading out on their honeymoon, but were only too pleased to say yes. They held hands when it was their turn to board, and as they stepped out of the physical realm of Seattle and onto the tropic-bound plane, they heard the very first seconds of their new life together tick away.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Sage ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

He was waiting when they got back, drenched in the sky's moisture but smiling brilliantly, holding hands, and he got one of his feelings. It wasn't desperation, longing, hope any longer, nor an inborn need to be somewhere or do something. No, Sage felt that they'd finally made it, that the instincts he'd nursed all his life were finally superfluous. He'd done it.

He walked out of that orphanage, he got hit by a car, he was noticed by his mother, his case, and their care for him, brought them back together. He had done that, and his reward, now, was to be able to live the life with his parents, the life he'd craved for a large chunk of eternity.

"Sage," his mother breathed when they neared him, and hugged him tightly, pressing his face to her rain-stained dress. Guiltily, he tried to hide his heaping plate of cake, but she only laughed and then Mark was hugging them too and Sage felt the baby kick through delicate silk and smiled.

His premonition's last, lingering gift was to give him a suspicion about the gender, a suspicion that made him grin in anticipation.

The party was clearing out and they both took one of his hands, telling him that it was time to go, that they'd finally arrived in the after they'd been seeking. He saw the looks that passed between Mark and Addison as they drove and kept his eyes glued to the window, not only to give them privacy but also to make sure they didn't crash.

When the car had found home in the gravel, Sage pulled off his shoes and socks and ran into the wet grass, laughing as Mark copied him and his mother set her shoes very carefully on the front porch before falling onto the grass with them. He didn't know that she and Mark had lay under the sky a few months ago in the park, ruining nice clothes even then, talking of him, hiding their love.

"Sage?" Addison probed. "Honey, I – we – we have something to tell you. You know what I said about finding your dad?"

"We're not going to find him anymore?" Sage asked disappointedly. He'd been expecting this, really, because involving an unknown man in their delicate tangle of relationships could break it, and already Mark felt like his father anyway, the one who drove him to soccer practice and gave him tips and let him eat things he wasn't supposed to. But he'd left to find his parents, and he worried that the curiosity would slowly eat him alive.

"No, we're not," Addison confirmed, and Sage felt tears pool in his eyes as his throat constricted, because he didn't want to hurt their feelings, but she'd _promised_. "We're not going to look for your father because we already found him, Sage."

Sage's spring green eyes widened, and his heart galloped against his sternum so that he could hardly breathe. "We did?"

His mother's eyes were certainly no dryer than his but her throat muscles worked as she swallowed and smiled and nodded at the person lying at his other side. Mark's eyes were already trained on him, nervous, unsure, but full of the unconditional caring he'd only experienced from Addison before. "Dad?" he whispered, and then he was caught up in Mark's strong arms, crying against his ruined tux shirt and feeling tears from the snowdrop eyes of his father hit the top of his head.

Finally, they pulled back from each other, and Sage looked over to see Addison crying as well, not even drying to pass if off as pregnancy hormones (and he'd learned more about those in the past few months than he'd ever wanted to). Mark wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Um, so, I won't tell anyone if you won't."

Sage grinned and said, "It's a deal," because even if he told someone that he'd seen Mark Sloan sob, they probably wouldn't believe him anyway. Then he remembered something and struggled hurriedly out of his expensive jacket, tearing at the collar of his stiff shirt so he could expose the glimmering treasure underneath.

He held the key out to Mark."Dad? I think this is yours."

"Keep it," Mark grinned, kissing his forehead uncertainly before Sage crashed into them again, pulling his mother into the hug this time, and they all lay breathless at the beginning of the rest.

"Ow," Sage complained in an afterthought, "Dad, your stomach is really hard."


	21. Epilogue:Even Fairytale Characters Would

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ **Runaway World** ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸  
**21. _Even Fairytale Characters Would Be Jealous_**

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Mark ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

This Mark lived in a living, breathing, breathtaking fairytale where, when he stepped out of his Mercedes every evening and into their sea of spring green grass, he was swamped by the pounding of tiny, dirty feet and reaching hands. Four-year-old Aberlee reached him first, her strawberry blonde ringlets swinging wildly, and launched herself into his arms. Her absolute devotion still astounded him, because he never did anything to earn her love except conceive her in the dirty bathroom of a bar.

He remembered the panting gasps that accompanied him on the runs between Addison and Meredith's delivery rooms as he and Derek switched places as per the women's wishes. Some moments Addison wanted to crush his fingers until he was sure he would never operate again, but then in others she sent him away, threatening to withhold sex for eternity, and he would run into a scared, harried Derek in the hall and trade places with him.

Still, he was the first to touch his daughter's shimmery, blood-covered body, the one to sever the connection between baby and mother and bring her truly into life. Addison spouted out names like a leaky faucet and then decided the next second that she didn't like them. Aberlee was a desperate combination Sage had thought up when his mother's sudden insanity frightened him, of Abby and Kaylee, both of which she'd rejected within seconds of uttering them.

He learned the ropes of diapers and ribbons and onesie snaps with vigorous determination despite the difficulty, and soon Aberlee smiled toothlessly from her crib, shining spittle dotting her lips, when she looked up to see her father. Fitting tiny, chubby arms into the baby clothes Addison bought by the truckload became easier with time, though there were days of panic when it was just him and his son trying to restore tranquility to the screaming baby while Addison worked or slept.

Mark placed Aberlee's flailing feet back on the ground in order to greet the twins, whose sticky, muddy hands grasping his Armani slacks might have, at one time, caused panic. Now he scooped a three-year-old up in each arm and awarded them both raspberries on bellies that smelled of sunshine and crushed marigold petals.

Skylar and Rowan were a surprise that left Naomi disgruntled and Addison hovering helplessly over the toilet more mornings than not. He remembered piling up pregnancy tests on the shiny white tile of their bathroom counter and begging a perpetually nauseous Addison to take them despite her numerous insistences that she was not carrying another child. And when he caught her struggling to do her own ultrasound, bent over a tiny, gel covered mound and tangled in the cord, she'd maintained that she was right: she wasn't carrying _a _child, she was carrying two.

Now they were two bodies cut out of a single soul, and only the faint, guitar shaped birthmark on the side of Skylar's neck allowed strangers to tell the boys apart. They were a tangle of squirming three-year-olds in his arms, arms tugging at matching red polos and little sneakers dirtying plaid boardshorts.

Sage arrived last, his soccer ball bouncing from knee to toe to knee again as he walked. At twelve, nearing thirteen, the softness of childhood had begun to fade into the hard muscles of adolescence; now his son blushed in the presence of girls and stood on tiptoe in the mirror, searching his upper lip for the first hint of stubble.

"Hey, Dad," he greeted, and they exchange their own version of the manly hug he and Derek had perfected years earlier.

The pride of watching his son's skill on the soccer field hadn't faded, he remembered days of soccer practices that resulted in his son running circles around kids nearly twice his age. He yelled encouragement with the best of the parents while Addison sat in a folding chair by his side, nursing a child and rolling her eyes.

Afterwards he would take his son out for sherbert ice cream and study the way his hands gripped the cone under his sweaty forehead, trying to find a slice of himself in the boy. Some days he succeeded, others he wasn't so sure, but his love for Sage, born unknowingly on the day he stitched the boy's face in the ER, was irrefutable.

These days Sage played on an international traveling team and aspired to try out for the national team for the next set of Olympics. Addison only allowed this in the presence of flawless grades, and some nights the two boys were both attempting to untangle the same problem inscribed on the blue lined paper of Sage's notebook until Mark managed to dig up some ancient high school geometry skills.

He was the one who had driven Sage to the grocery store and spent two hours helping his son decide which box of candy to give to Laila Fisher for Valentine's day, and later as Addison taped foil wrapped chocolates to the Valentines that Aberlee had missed (or for classmates she didn't like) they couldn't help glancing at the note to the girl and exchanging grins as they recalled the early, forbidden days of their courtship.

Mark felt a soft, enticing touch on his arm and turned to see his wife link her arm in his. He recognized the fabric of his property draped over her body, the smell of her perfume mingling with his scent on the worn, fire engine red t-shirt. The fabric distressed slightly over her belly, waterfalling over the bump of their fifth child mesmerizingly as she moved.

Lexie ended up with George, and he was truly happy about her contentment, but he still intercepted resentful looks on the occasions when Addison brought their brood of children to work. Izzie had eventually convinced Alex to have a baby, or perhaps threatened him, he was unsure. Still, nine months after wedding (which was a year after Meredith and Derek's and six months before his and Addison's), Katie Karev joined the ever-growing group of Seattle Grace kids. As far as Mark knew, Arizona and Callie were looking into adoption, but for now, they were simply enjoying being together.

"Okay guys, lay off your dad now," Addison laughed as Skylar and Rowan each latched onto one of his legs and hung there, little suntanned faces grinning up at him. Aberlee frowned at the lack of attention so Addison swung her up into her arms, settling the child against her hip as she wobbled slightly. Mark decided there was nothing more beautiful than his wife barefoot on their deck, holding one of his girls and pregnant with another.

"Careful of the baby," Addison admonished, ticking Aberlee's belly between the Kelly green two-piece his daughter refused to take off most summer days, it seemed far-off as Mark was hit with déjà vu. This hadn't happened before per se, similar scenes had taken place in their home, but not this one.

But, he realized, he'd dreamed about a little over four years ago, covered in flour and cuddled up to an Addison that didn't know she was pregnant with Aberlee, or that Sage was her son. Grinning, Mark placed a kiss on the top of her head. It'd taken them a long time to get here, but they'd gotten where they were always meant to be.

¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸ Addison ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)(¨*·.¸)¨´*·.¸´·.¸

As she rolled over in Egyptian cotton sheets and found herself alone, legs tangled and her body surrounded by pillows, she couldn't help wondering for a second if it had all been an elaborate dream. But then her back hit Grumpy, Skye's favorite Carebear, and she accidentally squished Aberlee's Ni Hao, Kai-Lan doll a little, and she remembered that this was real, after all she and Mark had been through, they'd arrived at happily ever after.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and swayed a little as she stood, which she accounted to the shifting child inside her, whose thumb was probably in her mouth and who liked to protest with well-placed kicks every time her mother moved.

"Calm down, sweetie," she murmured as she tiptoed to the kitchen, toes exploring the well-worn tile of their rented Greek villa. So focused was she on the fridge and the food it promised that she ran smack-dab into her pajama-clad ex-husband.

"Talking to yourself?" he teased as he pulled open the fridge and began pulling out fruits for the blender she saw he'd already placed on the counter.

"To the baby," she corrected primly, hand roaming over her stomach. "You ought to know, your wife is pregnant again too."

"She isn't as crazy as you," Derek said as he began to dice the fruit and place it in the blender. "Plus, we don't have five kids."

"We don't have five either," she pointed out. "Yet." She dug the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer, added a few scoops to Derek's smoothie, and was about to replace it when she felt a tug on her pajamas. "Can I have a taste, Auntie Addie?" little Landon, Meredith and Derek's son asked.

Addison handed the carton to the four-year-old boy, who squealed with delight, shot a look at Derek that said _I can spoil him, I'm his aunt_, and grabbed one of the smoothies Derek had poured. The sun set to work staining her skin golden as soon as she stepped outside, and as they'd only been in Santorini a day and half it still had plenty of work to do.

She stood on the boulevard behind her family, staring over a sea comprised of pure happiness, and yet the flaw was still obvious and painful. Her husband's hanned, muscled shoulders gave way to her twelve-year-old son's, who was perched on the edge of the cliff beside him. Aberlee, Rowan, and Skylar were like duckling in a row, fiery heads shining in the sun, but the gap between Sage and Aberlee was so noticeably, so pungently agonizing, that she could almost see the ghostly outline of another child there.

"I think I found it, Adds," Mark called over her shoulder, and it didn't surprise her that he knew she was there.

"Right," she snorted, pacing over to stand by his side. "Which one is it then?"

"That one," he said, extending his arm into the golden sun, indicating a rooftop far in the distance. "Definitely that one."

"It was not! It was closer to the water than that."

"Hey! I was the one who the lady yelled at for being naked," Mark protested. "I think I would know, babe."

"What are you talking about?" Sage asked, wrinkling his nose in confusing, spring eyes dancing as he watched his parents.

"Oh, just which rooftop you were made on, honey," Addison answered casually, and laughed as her son gagged and took a running leap into the sea in order to escape her and his father. The mermaid-colored waves lapped at the cliff only a few feet below, but she still peaked over to see that Sage had plunged into the water safely.

"It wasn't that one, Mark."

"It _was _that one, Addie. You just refuse to admit that I'm right."

"You were too horny to remember anything," she said against her husband's bronze neck, and he grinned wickedly before scooping her up and tossing her into the ocean near her son, pajamas and all.

"Mark!" she shrieked, even though the coolness felt good and the baby inside her squirmed in delight.

"Come on, just those three little words, babe. You know you do," he teased, but she was not telling him she loved him after that.

"Go to hell," she choked, spewing a little seawater as she did.

* * *

So, this is the end of the road, people. I love this story and always will, but I think this was a natural and good place to end it. The ending's been planned like forever, so it was nice to finally write it, even though it made me a little sad. I'm not saying I'll never write a sequel, but I'm gonna work on other things for a while. Maybe Six Feet Under the Stars if I find the inspiration. Anyway thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, you mean the world to me.


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